


Together Forever

by Sherlock1110



Series: Together Forever [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Plug, Angst, BDSM, Ball Gags, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cock Cages, Collars, Dom John Watson, Dom Mycroft, Dom/sub, Dominance, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gags, Gen, Handcuffs, Hurt/Comfort, John Loves Sherlock, Leashes, M/M, Milking, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, Protective John, Restraints, Rope Bondage, Sherlock Loves John, Shower Sex, Sounding, Sub Greg, Sub Sherlock Holmes, Submission, Subspace, blindfold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 57,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU- set in the Dom/sub universe</p><p>Sherlock's difficult to handle at the best of times, how will John combat the task of being his full time Dom?<br/>How their relationship develops over time through ups and downs </p><p>Set after Sherlocks return after series 2</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Crime

‘Sherlock! Your room right now!’ John yelled, storming through the open door of the flat and slamming it behind him. He only ever called it Sherlock's room when he was in trouble.

Sherlock looked up from where he sat in his armchair, startled, although he would never admit it, John was the only person who had the ability to surprise him. ‘John? What?’

‘You heard me Sherlock! Room! Now! In your punishment corner!’

He glanced back at the violin that was now sat on his lap, he had been absently tuning it most of the afternoon. He slowly got to his feet and dropped the instrument on the cluttered coffee table then turned to look at John but he made no effort to move towards him.

‘What-’

‘Do not make me tell you again,’ John's tone was now dangerously low and Sherlock watched his face looking for a clue as to what was going on. Apart from anger, his deductions stopped there and cautiously he moved over towards the bedroom door. He was still in his pyjamas like he always was when he didn’t have a case and the look on his face made him look like a moody teenager.

He paused at the now open door. ‘John-’

‘No, Sherlock!’ He reached up and grabbed a handful of Sherlock's curls and yanked him down to his height, the detective groaned in complaint but didn’t attempt to pull free. He knew from previous experience he always ended up worse off even if it took John half an hour to gain some form of control over him, in the end Sherlock always gave up.

‘You will _not_ argue with me Sherlock,’ John hissed, his breath hot on his ear. The detective flinched, anger was flowing off the doctor in waves, he knew he was the cause of it and he knew any moment he would be on the receiving end of it. Except, John never punished him when he was angry, even with his safe word, John didn’t do it, he said it was too easy to get lost in his anger that he could do serious damage. It didn’t make Sherlock feel any better though, he knew if John wasn’t going to punish him immediately he would be left in the corner and he absolutely hated the corner.

John used his leverage over Sherlock to drag him over to the only clear corner in the room and shove him roughly to his knees. ‘Position,’ he growled, hoping the stubborn detective would obey him as he was struggling to keep his temper in check as it was.

Sherlock, albeit with obvious reluctance, sat up on his knees and placed his hands behind his head. John nodded once, he was always harder to gain control of when he hadn’t had a case for a few days, he had so many stray thoughts roaming around they got in the way of everything else. He turned swiftly on his heel and marched out of the bedroom shoving the door shut with a bang on his way.

He dropped slowly into his arm chair and picked up his paper he had left that morning. He stared at it for almost a whole minute before huffing and dropping it back on the floor beside his chair. He couldn’t concentrate and he couldn’t punish Sherlock yet. Despite what Sherlock thought at the time, he hated punishing him, he’d rather cuddle up with him. They didn’t get enough of a chance to do that together these days as there seemed to be an ever growing rise in cases Lestrade was sending, until recently they had just seemed to stop, which left one very irritable detective to be irritable at home. He stared off into space, and contemplated just getting it over with, but came to the conclusion he knew he would and sighed. He couldn’t punish Sherlock angry. He always did things he regretted when he was mad, and Sherlock, even the twat he was sometimes, was too precious to let that happen. He still couldn’t work out how he had managed to catch someone so precious, someone so precious that he didn’t even realised how precious he was. He shook his head at the thought, he had wondered about it many times before and all the answers he had come up with were useless. But it didn’t matter, Sherlock was his and he was Sherlock's and nothing would change that.

Leaving his gorgeous boyfriend on his own for any length of time, in Sherlock's eyes was punishment enough. He could cope, just, if he had his laptop or a book or an experiment but now on his own, without John with him he would be tearing the room apart in- he glanced at his watch. 11 minutes had passed.

John paused his thoughts and listened.

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

It was definitely coming from their room. He stood up to go and deal with the troublesome detective and paused before he’d even reached touching distance of the door. No. That was what Sherlock wanted. He wanted attention, well he’d get it, eventually, but not until John could handle him with a clear head and it certainly wouldn’t be the attention he was hoping for. He’d just count the thuds then when he was ready he would add the number onto the caning he was already going to get. Did he really deserve a caning? Sherlock despised it, he got no pleasure from it at all. John had been unsure but – _Thud._ 5.

John settled himself back in his chair and went over various scenarios in his head. How he was going to react to Sherlock's, obvious stubborn mood? How was he going to react to him obviously being off his knees… _Thud._ 6.

 

‘Enough!’ John barked as he slammed the bedroom door open.

Sherlock was leant back against the headboard of the bed a tennis ball in his hand. He’d clearly just been throwing it against the wall.

The look of absolute fury on John's face caused Sherlock to drop the ball, roll off the bed and drop to his knees, hands behind his back, head down. He hated himself for getting bored so quickly, he’d lasted just ten minutes before screwing up.

‘Not only did you offend-’

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Sherlock looked up at the dresser and instinctively grabbed his phone. John was on him in seconds grabbing his ear in a tight pinch and snatching the phone from his grip. Sherlock yelped, more in surprise than pain. ‘But it could be a case…’ he complained.

‘It’s not,’ John slipped it into his pocket, not relenting on his grip of the detective's ear, he was hanging somewhere between a squat and kneeling. ‘But it could be,’ he countered. ‘How do you know?’

‘I deduced. Now kneel.’ He let his ear go and the detective fell back against the bed.

Sherlock swallowed and then looked from the corner, to the tennis ball, to the bed, to the dresser and then to John and it dawned on him how much he probably wasn’t going to enjoy this.

‘I said _kneel_ ,’ John ordered, his tone was stern and full of authority.

Sherlock knelt.

‘Do you know what you did wrong yet? The great Sherlock Holmes has never missed the obvious after all.’

‘I-’ he swallowed and tried again. ‘No, Sir.’

‘Look at me and deduce me Sherlock. Go on. Try it.’

Sherlock tried. He really did but he couldn’t get anything to focus on, worry usually did that and he realised how upset he was at himself. He dropped his head in defeat. ‘I- I can’t, Sir.’

‘Well, I’ll tell you, shall I?’ he fisted his hand through Sherlock's curls and pulled. ‘I’ve just had a rather interesting chat with Mycroft, about you Sherlock, and his sub is not happy.’

If this had come from Mycroft, Sherlock stood no chance.

‘Frankly I agree with him. This last week, you have been appalling. That is partly my fault I should have dealt with you sooner. But my rather heated discussion with your brother about you at the Yard wasn’t quite what I wanted to hear.’

The detective went to complain but John silenced him with a glare. ‘I don’t think you realise how much trouble you’re in, but if I were you I would shut up and do as you are told.’

He turned to find something in the dresser and Sherlock tensed as he saw what John was holding.

‘Strip.’

Sherlock instantly obeyed and made his way through the buttons on his night shirt and then climbed out of his bottoms before kneeling again.

‘Well,’ John said, tilting his head slightly. ‘These should help you deduce.’ He slipped the metal cuffs over Sherlocks wrists and snapped them shut. ‘Do you know now?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ Sherlock said quietly, resigned to his fate.

‘Well?’

‘You only use the metal ones when I’ve been bad because they are uncomfortable. You always use the soft leather and fur ones when we’re playing as they don’t hurt.’

‘Good.’

Sherlock couldn’t help but feel some relief at the praise, even if it was one word.

‘Foot of the bed.’

Sherlock obeyed and awkwardly shuffled around, not wanting to anger John further.

‘Stay on your knees,’ came the next command and John attached the black leather leash to his collar and looped the handle over the ball on one corner of the bed. He tightened the collar so it was on the verge of being too tight and unhooked one wrist so he could slide it through the slats at the foot of the bed and redo it up. Cuffing him like this kept him bent over at the waist from his kneeling position.

‘Kneel up, Boy!’

He obeyed instantly, if shakily.

‘You are going to answer the questions I put to you immediately and truthfully. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘What did you say to Greg yesterday?’

‘Er…’

‘I asked you a question, Boy!’

Sherlock shook his head, in silent shame, he hated John being this displeased with him and was willing to do anything to get back on the right side of his doctor but he couldn’t think.

‘About his job Sherlock. Ringing any bells?’

Another shake of the head.

‘Why not?’

‘I… I deleted it, Sir. I delete all conversations that I don’t think are important.’

‘Well you better bloody remember this little conversation because it’s going to be a lesson to you. A lesson I doubt you’ll like. Now where did I put the cane?’

He asked the question deliberately and it had the desired effect.

Sherlocks head snapped up, his eyes wide open in fear.

‘Yes, Sherlock, that’s how much you have disappointed me. I’ve only ever had to use it once on you before, I wasn’t sure this time but your little trick with the ball convinced me. You will take it and don’t try telling me it is not well justified.’

Sudden guilt flooded through Sherlock. Not from what he had said to Greg but for disappointing John. Yes, punishment meant attention, but the cane, that just meant pain even if it was going to come from John. He hated letting him down, it made his stomach drop to a place he never thought it would return from. He would be good. He would take this from John to prove that he could be good.

‘No, Sir. I deserve it. I’ll be good.’

John looked up from routing through the drawer under the bed and locked eyes with Sherlock who quickly looked away again. That response had shocked him, he’d assumed the detective would need a few hits with the cane first to make him feel some form of remorse.

Sherlock didn’t fail to notice the slightly look of approval from John and the praise, even if it was non-verbal, wasn’t wasted, he could do this. He took a deep breath. He _would_ do this.

‘You were going to receive seven strokes for the 7 days you’ve been acting the prat but I believe that tennis ball of yours hit the wall 17 times before I decided to interrupt so do you know what’s going to happen now?’

‘Yes, Sir. You’re going to add 17 to the tally Sir, making 24.’ His voice cracked slightly, he only received 15 with the cane last time but now… he dropped his head further.

‘Very good,’ John said.

John ran his hand through Sherlock's hair briefly and he noticed his determined grimace at not pushing into his grip.

‘Good,’ he said again.


	2. The Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlocks time to face the music!

Sherlock allowed himself a small smile and straightened himself out into the position he knew John had him in the last time this had happened.

‘This will hurt. But you will count and you will thank me.’

‘Yes, sir. I deserve it, sir. I’ll be good.’

John looked to the back of the detectives head watching curiously. 4 years and he never failed to surprise him.

The Captain took a deep breath and raised his arm, Sherlock must have heard the _whoosh_ of air behind him as he flinched milliseconds before the first _whack_ landed, at the top of his left cheek.

John wasn’t wrong. It hurt, of course it hurt, after all the times he had been caned before, had he really expected it to suddenly not? The thin red line, quickly brightened up and Sherlock could feel the after sting already. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder, beg John to stop. He could safe word, get out of it. _No_! He felt guilty enough without disappointing John further. His Captain wanted him to take it so he would, he knew he could take at least fifteen and wouldn’t cry out until at least then. He took a deep breath and dutifully said; ‘one, sir. Thank you, sir.’

The blow came again, this time on the opposing cheek and Sherlock hissed air in through his teeth before calmly; ‘two, sir. Thank you, sir.’

John tapped just below the first line, practicing the spot he was aiming for briefly before raising his arm again, receiving the same response from Sherlock. He noted the fact that Sherlock hadn’t made a sound apart from his dutiful replies, in fact, thinking back on it he hadn’t made a sound the last time either. Maybe he wasn’t letting the blows drop hard enough…

This time John dropped six in quick succession each one, a line running parallel to the previous. It all happened so fast Sherlock didn’t have a chance to count in between, but determined not to let john down he grit his teeth, waited for the last of the burst of blows and gritted out; ‘four, five, six, seven, eight and nine, sir. Thank you, sir.’ He was surprised at how steady his voice was, given his breathing had picked up to rapid speed and held no consistency. But this wasn’t going to be quite as easy as he had hoped.

Eleven ‘thank you sirs’ later John paused breathing deeply, Sherlock was also breathing heavily and was quietly sobbing to himself in between numbers and thank yous. He hadn’t shifted positions since the first flinch and he hadn’t made any noise except to keep his count. Although his voice was hitching and his words were now stuttered and broken he hadn’t complained or begged for relief, his breaths were coming in hiccups and he had his eyes screwed shut tightly waiting for the next hit, however when it didn’t come he didn’t relax, he knew from experience the next hit came when you began to calm. Instead, John reached forward and loosened the buckle on his collar.

‘Th-thank you, s-sir,’ he stuttered, genuinely meaning it as he took deep, full breaths.

His backside and upper thighs were covered in overlapping stripes, of varying colours, the more recent ones were already a deep shade of purple as they were covering the older lines.

It had been ninety one seconds, ninety two. Ninety three, since John had stopped and Sherlock was beginning to get anxious, he’d given count number twenty and thanked him. He must have done something wrong. Miscounted? He thought over all the hits, remembering where each one had landed, reliving each stroke, he checked and double check but he came up with twenty both times. So he hadn’t miscounted… he didn’t relax though, couldn’t relax and he didn’t look over his shoulder to get an idea of what he had done wrong. He had been waiting one hundred and thirty six seconds when he flinched at the touch. John was running his soft hand over his reddened flesh and had to stop himself flinching at the heat. It felt like it was on fire, from Sherlocks perspective it probably was. The touch wasn’t heavy but Sherlock had still flinched, he bunched his hands into fists and his head fell lower, giving up, before straightening himself back into his tense position again. ‘I-I’m sorry, s-sir. P-please hit m-me again sir,’ he sobbed.

‘You want me to hit you again Sherlock?’ John was rather bad at hiding his surprise… and his concern.

‘Yes, s-sir. I d-deserve it s-sir,’ he choked. He hated being caned, it was the worst physical punishment that Sherlock could think of and yet the idea of John being mad… disappointed in him… was much, much worse.

John moved forward and Sherlock instantly felt the need to apologise again.

‘I-I’m s-sorry, sir. I d-didn’t mean to flinch, s-sir. I’m s-sorry if I lost c-count. I won’t again, sir I promise. P-please.’

The Captain eyed him warily, he thought he’d disobeyed? That’s why he thought he was stopping? What the hell was he thinking was going to happen next? He hurriedly slipped the key into the locks of the cuffs, pulling his lovers wrists free.

‘P-please, sir. No! I-I’m sorry!’

‘I’m not caning you anymore Sherlock.’

‘B-but you said t-tw-twenty four, sir, you’re only on t-twenty. I think.’

‘No, you’re right I was on twenty and I know what I said but the caning has had the desired effect. But to finish your punishment we will be going around to your brothers new flat so you can apologise.’

‘Y-yes, sir,’ the detectives voice was hoarse and rough as John dropped the cuffs and the cane back in the drawer and slid it shut back under the bed. He held Sherlocks, obviously saw wrists. They were rubbed raw, Sherlock hadn’t struggled, probably deciding it would have been pointless, but it didn’t stop the roughness of the inside of the cuffs. That was after all why they were the punishment cuffs, it didn’t stop John feeling guilty though.

John glanced down and noticed that he was right about Sherlock not getting pleasure from the cane, Sherlocks length was as soft as it got, if it had been the paddle John would have needed the shiny silver ring he had purchased that he kept in the top drawer. John found Sherlocks response to it amusing, although he hated it, and moved away on sight, he never hid it. He knew where it was, he’d seen John put it there more times than he cared to remember and he was fairly sure Sherlock wouldn’t delete something like that. He’d come home from a day at the surgery a while ago to find the new vibrating plug he’d bought to be missing, so he knew if Sherlock had really wanted it gone, it would have vanished a long time ago…

‘Come and lay on the bed,’ he said in the end. He dropped a soothing hand on the detectives shoulder.

Sherlock raised his head fractionally and his eyes widened in fear, but he obeyed and slowly, wobbly got to his feet, using the bed to steady him, and Johns grip on his shoulder to ground him.

‘Not on your back,’ John assured him. ‘It’s over, just lay on your stomach. I’ll go and get some of the arnica gel I used last time.’

‘Please, sir,’ Sherlock sobbed as Johns touch was gone and he had turned towards the bathroom.

‘What is it, Sherlock?’

‘Can- can you stay with me, please?’

‘I’m only going to the bathroom-’

‘Please, sir, can you hold me, like last time?’

He was beside the detective in a flash. ‘Of course, Sweetheart.’ He clambered onto the bed and shifted the duvet slightly in order to lay it out flat. ‘Lift your head up so I can squeeze under.’ Sherlock moved around so John could slide in underneath and rest his head in his lap. He slowly stroked his hand through his curls tickling behind the detective’s ear, his hair was damp with sweat and stuck to the back of his head. ‘I wasn’t going to leave you long, I just thought you’d like it straight away.’

‘I would rather you, sir.’

‘Oh, Sherlock,’ John sighed. ‘I’m sorry I did that but it had to be done and you know I hate punishing you.’

‘Yes, sir. I know sir. I… I’m sorry.’

John nodded slowly, even though Sherlock couldn’t see him, and he knew how much he meant it. ‘It’s ok,’ he whispered. ‘I forgive you.’

The detective let out a deep shaky sigh of relief and snuggled his head into Johns lap further. ‘Th-thank you, sir.’

Every time Sherlock was punished, no matter how big or small, it always surprised john how much Sherlock needed his forgiveness. In a normal dom-sub relationship needing forgiveness was natural. But Sherlock was so dom-like in so many ways, even after four years of knowing him he was still trying to work out what was best for Sherlock, physically as well as emotionally.

‘I’m not impressed with the way you acted, Sherlock but I know why you did and you took that punishment admirably, without complaint so of course I forgive you. Next time though, I’d rather you let me know when you were about to enter destructive mode eh? I might be able to provide some entertainment.’

Sherlock had a small smile on his face when John glanced down at him. ‘Y-yes, sir,’ he said realising he might have wanted a response and that wasn’t rhetorical.

‘Ah, good,’ he continued to run his hand through his hair and blew at it.

Sherlock glared up at him playfully and John just blew at him again. Sherlock closed his eyes and rested his head back in Johns lap, rubbing his cheek in a comforting gesture over his jean clad thigh.

‘Sherlock,’ the Captain started after a moment’s thought. ‘Why do you hate the cane so much?’

‘Because I know you’re really mad when you use it on me,’ Sherlock responded quickly, too quickly.

‘That’s not the only reason though is it? I don’t even think that’s the main one?’

‘Are you deducting?’

John laughed softly. ‘I’m right though, aren’t I?’

He got no response from the detective who still hadn’t opened his eyes.

‘You went to public school, didn’t you? You and your brother?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What was it like?’

‘Boring, sir.’

‘Sherlock…’

‘Yes, sir,’ Sherlock sighed in defeat. ‘They used the cane on me, sir.’

‘How often?’

Sherlock turned his head away so he was facing the edge of the bed rather than John.

‘How. Often?’

The detective’s shoulders visibly deflated in resignation. ‘It depends, sir.’

‘On what?’

‘Which year I was in. I used to get it fortnightly, sometimes weekly. One term Mycroft bribed me into behaving and in return he stopped nagging me. It lasted about six weeks. But he couldn’t resisted telling his _baby brother_ off,’ john could tell how much Sherlock hated the term ‘baby brother’ just by looking at him when he said it. ‘I soon started getting into trouble again. By fifth year the teacher we had used to carry a cane with him at all times.’

‘But they were-’

‘Banned, sir. I know they were banned in state schools and they were only used as a last resort in mine. It just turned out, up until fifth year I tended to reach the last resort more than I probably should have. They couldn’t expel me, mummy made sure of it, as her and father used to pay more than most parents and held shares in it.’

‘What happened in fifth year, did you stop getting into trouble?’

Sherlock chuckled. ‘Sort of.’

‘Sort of how?’

‘Well, I ended up being caned whether it was justified or not. The teacher I had during firth year used to play by his own rules. Of course when the headmaster used to turn up it was out of sight in a split second and none of us dared to speak up. He had the habit of standing directly behind my desk and asking me for the answer to every question he could think of, it wasn’t even related to the topic half the time, so I ended up being hit without whether I was right or wrong, especially when I was right as I tended to be a lot and he didn’t like it much.’

‘Still as modest,’ John chuckled kissing the top of his head lightly as he snuggled up to rest his head in johns shoulder rather than on his lap.

‘Where did he used to hit you?’

‘Knuckles were the worst. It used to hurt and then father would accuse me of fighting and I’d find myself in more trouble, trouble, if I may say, I didn’t actually deserve to be in.’

‘And Mycroft?’

‘Had moved out by then but he knew exactly what had happened, he’d gone through it too, and when he had brought it up with father seven years previous, he’d accused him of lying. I didn’t see the point of ‘kicking up a fuss’ so to speak. It took a bit of getting used to but by half term I had.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this ones going to be longer than originally planned as I have many ideas flying around. how do I go about a beta here?


	3. Working Things Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler before it all kicks off with Mycroft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad of the responses so far, so thank you!! and thank you to my lovely new beta crazycatt71! and everybody who kudosed!!

John had been laying back against the headboard, with his eyes shut for just over an hour, he had one arm draped over Sherlocks shoulders as he snuggled into his neck, and rubbed a soothing hand over his lower back. He was careful to avoid the upcoming bruises though, he felt bad enough as it was without making it hurt more, he was already going to be stuck with them for a good few days. He was thinking about what Sherlock had said about his school. If it was him, his father would have also gone mad, but only if it was justified. Since his comment about Mycroft moving out and him having to get used to his fifth year teachers’ power play Sherlock hadn’t uttered a sound, his breathing pattern hadn’t changed like it usually did before he drifted off, which suggested the detective was still awake, just cosy. He shivered slightly and the doctor instantly raised a hand to feel his head and run his finger over his lower lip. ‘Hey, Sweetheart, I know you’re awake. You’re cold, do you feel it?’

‘Hmm.’

‘An answer would be good Sherlock.’

He shifted slightly and hissed in pain as his reddened backside came into contact with the sheets.

‘Mmm.’

‘An answer in either the affirmative or not.’

‘It’s only the come down from the cane, sir,’ he said dismissively.

‘I know, but I don’t want you getting too cold. How’s a bath sound?’

‘C-can we go to Mycrofts first?’

‘Did you just ask to go and see your brother?’ John was slightly confused but didn’t want to judge him too soon.

‘Yes, sir,’ Sherlock responded, as if after everything that he had said tonight, it was the most absurd statement that John would choose to question.

‘OK, why?’

‘Because I’ll be closer to you no longer being mad with me once I’ve done everything that is part of my punishment.’

John could see his reasoning but he was wrong. ‘Sherlock, I’ve already said I’m not mad with you anymore. You took your punishment well. I’ve decided I’m not going to make you go to Mycrofts.’

The detective smiled slightly. 

‘It doesn’t have the desired effect if you don’t mean it.’

‘Then, a bath sounds good sir,’ he said, relieved to be able to avoid his brother for the immediate future.

John watched Sherlock curiously as he slid gingerly off the bed. He had to reach out to steady himself as his knees buckled. ‘Alright?’

He nodded in response but had to grab onto the frame at the foot of the bed to hold himself up. He smiled sheepishly at the doctor and made slow, steady progress to the bathroom door. 

‘Run it and get in, I’ll be with you in a minute. 

He called a quiet, ‘yes, sir,’ over his shoulder and shut the bathroom door behind him to hold the heat in once the water was running.

 

John found him a few minutes later knelt in the bath, his hands absently laying on the surface of the water.

‘Sherlock, I only make you kneel in there when you’re in trouble and I thought we had already established that you were forgiven the second I dropped the cane back in the drawer…’

‘I know, sir. But… well…’

‘Oh, of course, well if you’re more comfortable on your knees you can stay on them. But I highly doubt it, hence why I make you do it when you’re in trouble.’

Sherlock tried to hold back his grin while he pushed the bubbles away, and for once John doubted it was the upcoming erection he was indicating. He was knelt on the padded mat; they had bought it for this very occasion. John had thought he’d hidden it but apparently not…

The Captain nodded his understanding. ‘I see. However I also see a rather hard object appearing down here,’ he plunged his hand under the water and grasped hold of the detectives now rather hard length. 

Sherlock winced slightly, letting out a deep breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding- Breathing was boring after all. He didn’t pull away though just waited and watched the Captain to see what he would do next. 

‘I wonder how that happened?’ John asked, not releasing his grip in the slightest.

‘I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know,’ Sherlock said with a sly smile.

‘Is that a lie pet?’

Sherlock cocked his head on one side, aware that any sudden movement would make John change his grip and he couldn’t quite work out whether he wanted that or not. ‘It might be. What are you going to do about it?’

John stripped out of his shirt and his trousers so fast that Sherlock had just enough time to move out of the way before the doctor had clambered over the side with a large crash and a tidal wave of a splash.

‘Watch it, sir,’ Sherlock protested. ‘Or we’ll have Mrs Hudson up here!’

‘How do you know that’s not what I want?’

Sherlock froze in horror, but John couldn’t keep the glint of humour out of his eye.

‘You’re a cruel man Captain Watson.’

‘Oooh. I like that…’

‘What? Captain?’ Sherlock leaned forward to place a quick kiss on Johns lips but as he did, he must have been so aroused and forgotten he was on his knees because he was suddenly laying on top of John who had collapsed underneath him and was now giving him a death glare. ‘You,’ John grinded out. ‘Are impossible,’ he managed before Sherlocks mouth was there again. John pushed up suddenly as his head went under water to find Sherlock grinning widely.

‘You know me, sir,’ he said, retreating slightly, to give him room to breathe. ‘I like impossible.’

‘Well, soldier, sit back up!’

Sherlocks lips curled into a smile that he was clearly trying to hide.

‘Oh, do you like that, Sherlock, like being my little soldier?’

‘I don’t know, Captain, you tell me.’

Sherlock hissed as he straightened up again.

‘I think you have a bit of a military kink that I have been neglecting…’

‘Neglect requires you to be aware of the object or persons issue that any reasonable person would exercise movement in assisting under the same circumstances. Thus in order to neglect any kink I may have you must have previously been aware of it, which I gather you were not…’

John watched Sherlock speak in silent awe his eyes glowing with the spark of pride that Sherlock longed to see. 

‘I love it when you do that,’ John whispered, his voice husky with lust.

‘Do what?’ Sherlock tried to act innocent, but couldn’t keep the smug look from his face.

‘It’s the way you can just turn it on and off.’

Now the detective just looked confused.

John laughed. ‘The way you just become a… a talking dictionary. Too intelligent.’

Sherlock beamed. ‘Anything for you, sir.’

‘Spooning?’

‘You want a definition sir? Or a demonstration?’

John laughed again, his seriousness catching him off guard. ‘We’ll start with a definition.’

‘A horizontal activity in which two or more people can participate in, when all parties snuggle in, fitting into all gaps and spaces available.’

‘Incredible…’

‘You know, I used to make remarks like that just to show off.’

‘Used to? You still do,’ John pointed out.

‘Yes. Quite.’

‘Ok, wrong question. Why do you make remarks like that now, Sherlock?’

‘To impress you.’ 

‘Well it works. Anyway back to the point. A military kink… it could get interesting.’

‘It could sir, yes. Especially with your… experience.’

‘Is that a challenge, soldier?’

Sherlock didn’t answer.

‘Up!’

He looked confused, ‘the bath-‘

‘Will wait. On your feet and march your red backside straight back to the bedroom. I believe we have something to do.’

 

Sherlock awoke the following morning, his leg still over Johns hip and his head still resting in the crook of his neck. He sucked air in between his teeth as he was now consciously aware of the pain coming from his almost promisingly purple arse rubbing against the sheets. He had to remember to be quiet as his Captain was still asleep so he turned his thoughts to last nights conversation and the activities that followed with a smile. Slowly but surely he rolled onto his back, using his feet as leverage to lower himself down as slowly and as painlessly as possible. He hated the idea that it would be throbbing for a good few days, even after Johns application of that special arnica gel he kept below the sink, the bruises would last for a long time to come. However he knew deep down after pondering over for a few hours since it had happened that there was no doubt whether he deserved it or not. Frankly, he was surprised John hadn’t got to him sooner. He laid there for a long time staring at imaginary patterns on the ceiling. 

Before he met John he rarely even get into bed, usually telling Mrs Hudson that he forgot to bed on the numerous times she entered his flat at random times in the morning to find him dozed off in his arm chair. When John moved in, he began vacating his chair for bed but probably only slept half the amount of time he would have done if he was in his chair. When the Captain quizzed him on it, he just claimed sleeping was boring, but now he actually found himself enjoying a quiet morning, especially after an eventful evening, previous.

However since John had become his practically full time dom he insisted on dragging him to bed every evening. He said he wanted him in bed for at least five hours every night unless a case kept them out late. John knew Sherlock could go two days without a wink of sleep and in return he knew that John could do the same, he didn’t like it but he could do it. After a few tours in Afghanistan, going a few days without sleep wasn’t uncommon, he just couldn’t cope with it quite as well as the detective. 

Hissing yet again, slightly when he moved, he thought of the causes of his rather abused arse and felt small dredges of guilt in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t meant to be rude to Lestrade, it just happened, like it always did when he was low on activities for the brain. So why did he feel guilty for it this time? Yes, John often reprimanded him for his cheek at crime scenes and his attitude in general but last night was the first time such severe consequences had come of it…

‘Hey,’ came a quiet, husky voice from Sherlocks right.

‘Hey,’ he whispered back.

‘You’re thinking incredibly loudly.’

‘Sorry.’

‘I’m not having a go at you just seem distracted…’ John was sat up on his elbow watching him. ‘I’ve been like this for a good few minutes and you didn’t even notice,’ there was a slight smile forming on Johns lips but it was counterproductive to the concerned look in his eye.

‘Like you said, I was just thinking.’

‘Sherlock I’ve known you to think about fifty different things whilst chasing a criminal through pitch black alleys in the pissing rain while you judge which route he is most likely to take given the circumstances and his previous actions and then use that information to predict where he is going to be in seven minutes to cut him off using a different route before he even gets there. Laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, thinking, is not exactly strenuous for you. You’re therefore thinking about something that is worrying you.’

Sherlock looked away from John to the ceiling again. ‘I’m not usually so easy to read,’ the detective said indignantly. ‘Nobody can read me, like I can read people- usually.’

‘You’re my boyfriend and not just that, my sub. It’s my job to know what you’re thinking. You’re like an open book, sweetheart. And last night you were a dictionary.’

Sherlock raised one eyebrow but nodded in understanding. He leant up, placing a quick kiss on Johns lips before resting his head back down against the pillow. John laid parallel to him and slid his arm around Sherlocks shoulders, a silent order to move his head to his chest. Sherlock lay in silence, listening to the soft thump of Johns heartbeat. 

‘John?’ Sherlock interrupted the silence after ten minutes.

‘Yeah?’

‘What day is it?’

‘Saturday. Why?’

‘Can we go to Mycrofts?’

‘Why?’

‘Well they both have the day off.’

‘And?’ John knew exactly what the detective was trying to say but a) he couldn’t believe it and b) he loved seeing him embarrassed and stuttering, trying to form a sentence.

‘I feel like I should apologise to Greg. I know I’ve been a bit rude recently but he’s been giving me all the level three cases.’

‘Well he can’t help that no one has been murdered, Sherlock…’

‘I know, sir, that’s why I feel like I need to apologise.’

‘Ok, let’s get dressed, grab some toast and head over there. You can skip the pants if it’ll make your trousers more bearable.’

Sherlock smiled sheepishly, a look John rarely found on his lover.

‘I’m not looking forward to Mycrofts face when he works out how you punished me…’

‘He knew I would punish you, that’s why he told me.’

‘That’s what I’m worried about. He can be a right smug bastard at times.’

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘You want me to, don’t you?’

‘No. I want you to want to,’ John corrected.

‘Well, I don’t want to but I think it’s the right thing to do… it is isn’t? That’s why you were going to make me?’

‘Yes, Sherlock. It’s the right thing to do.’


	4. Putting Things Right... Possibly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a bit heated with Mycroft :)

‘Go down, I’ll meet you in a moment.

John watched as Sherlock paced slowly down the stairs, he had refused to let him take his collar off to replace it back in the drawer so still had it on as he slipped his scarf over his neck and tightened it up. John turned back into their bedroom as Sherlock grabbed his coat but then he heard Mrs Hudson and immediately he was braced for Sherlocks imminent explosion. He was tense as it was; not only because he was about to go and meet Mycroft but the fact that he was about to wear his collar outside of 221B. Even though both were his idea, John knew that Sherlock would struggle to come to terms with what he suggested until they had at least got outside into a cab and things were in motion. The only other person to see Sherlock in his collar was Mrs Hudson; John never made him wear it outside, they had come to a mutual decision but he wasn’t about to tell Sherlock not to when he’d done it out of choice.

He quickly slipped into his shoes and grabbed his coat which he had left over the chair in his hurry to get within yelling distance of his troublesome boyfriend. He charged down the stairs and stopped three from the bottom where he saw the detective calmly talking to Mrs Hudson about his recent bad mood and _apologising?_

‘… I truly am sorry, Mrs Hudson, but there are no more holes in the wall, I promise.’

She chuckled lightly and John made his way down the remainder of the stairs not daring to take his eye off Sherlock.

‘There better not be, my boy,’ she said. ‘Or there will be hell to pay.’

‘And I doubt it will just be from me, Sherlock,’ John said joining them at last and grinning at their landlady.

Sherlock dropped his head, instantly worried at the tone of voice John had used, but he soon lifted his head again to meet the doctors eye as he rested a comforting hand at the back of his neck.

‘C’mon, trouble, grab your coat.’

He did as he was told and swung it over his shoulders as he skipped down the steps. John watched him stop at the side of the road waiting for him, then turned to Mrs Hudson who had a look of both amazement and puzzlement clouding her features.

‘No, I don’t know why he’s being cooperative,’ John said defensively. ‘But I am not complaining.’

She smiled. ‘You’re a good man John Watson, and you’ve worked wonders on young Sherlock.’

‘Thanks Mrs H, I do try.’

 

Ten minutes later, they’d both clambered into the back of a cab and were well on their way to Mycroft and Gregs.

Sherlock sat on his knees beside Johns feet on the floor, the carpet was much softer than the hardwood at Baker Street. The Captains hand was settled in his curls, his fingers working their way through soothing movements without getting tangled up. He pulled him in tighter against his knee blowing gently in his ear. Sherlock tensed his neck until John stopped and then grinned lazily up at him.

‘You always do that,’ Sherlock stated.

‘I know. I can never work out if you enjoy it or hate it but either way your reaction is always fantastic.’

He shifted slightly, the carpet in the cab might have been more comfortable than 221B but it was more difficult than one would think trying to balance upright in a moving vehicle, the driver seemed to be hitting every pot hole he could find and taking the corners a bit too fast. He was glad John had punished him and set him straight but he did usually sit up next to John, or at least lay with his head in his lap, but thanks to how sore he was he had automatically fallen to his knees and John hadn’t protested.

‘Pet?’

Sherlock closed his eyes briefly, he used to hate the nick name and John had started to do it to wind him up, but now it was growing on him. He wanted to hate himself for becoming so sentimental, because his brother was right, sentiment didn’t make things easier, and yes it could be seen as a weakness. It did however make life a lot more enjoyable, especially sentiment in the form of John Watson. He opened his eyes as he turned his head up to meet Johns gaze with worried eyes.

John smiled reassuringly but his tone was still stern when he spoke again. ‘Absolute obedience, Sherlock. Ok? Let’s show your brother up, I want him to see how good you can be.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good boy,’ he tickled the spot just behind Sherlocks ear and then chuckled as he pushed his head into it, making a near purring noise.

‘I used to have a cat as a kid that had a spot just above his tail that made him do that, I was the only one who could make him do it, Harry never could, it used to extremely annoy her.

Sherlock smiled. ‘Well, sir, you’re the only one who can make me do that.’

There was a silent pause in the conversation, where John realised how true that was before he randomly changed the subject.

‘How is your bum feeling?’

‘H-hot,’ the detective cleared his throat. ‘Hot sir.’

‘Better than it was?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good. I’m glad. Oh by the way, I nearly forgot to tell you, Mrs Hudson was impressed.’

‘Impressed sir? Impressed by what?’

‘You. I have to admit I was a bit worried when I heard you bump into her at the bottom of the stairs.’

‘Worried?’

‘You. Again. You were… nice to her.’

‘I’m always nice to her,’ Sherlock said with a small smile.

‘I know. But you can be a bit…’ John paused to search for the right word, ‘defensive with her occasionally, and I knew you were worried about this visit to Mycrofts and wearing your collar outside.’

‘Last night made me realise how much I wanted people to know I’m yours. Well, as long as you’ll have me at least.’

‘I’ll have you forever, Sherlock,’ he leant down and kissed the top of his head.

‘Does it bother you, sir? The fact that I want to wear it outside?’

‘Not at all, pet. I was meaning to talk to you about it to see if we could renegotiate but I kept getting distracted.’ He reached down further and palmed Sherlocks length though his trousers. Sherlock grinned innocently in response and rested his head against Johns knee again when he straightened up.

 

‘Brother dear, and Doctor Watson do come in.’ Mycroft was as posh and arrogant as ever as he stood in the open doorway. John noted the umbrella, swaying slightly from his right hand, did he ever put it down?

Sherlock helped John take his coat and held it as John dragged him into the flat by his scarf. He left his own on as John didn’t mention it and kept his head down, he caught a glimpse of the edge of a few boxes by the cream leather sofa; Mycroft had obviously got bored of unpacking. The Captain stopped tugging him along once they had reached said sofa and Sherlock saw the tips of Gregs shoes as he stood to shake Johns hand.

Sherlock dropped to his knees beside his dom and received a proud look from him which he couldn’t see.

‘Feeling guilty Sherlock?’ came Mycrofts inevitable snide comment from the door, it clicked shut behind him and Sherlock dropped his head further still.

‘You can answer pet,’ John encouraged, setting his hand on his head.

‘I- I came to say sorry, Lestrade. You know how I get without a case, but that’s no excuse to treat you the way I did. I didn’t mean to anger him Mycroft, I’m sorry sir.’

John smiled warmly, but once again Sherlock couldn’t see it so he ruffled his curls a silent; _well done_.

‘Don’t give me that!’ Mycroft snapped, moving over and sitting down next to Greg, in response the Inspector slid off the sofa to his knees beside the elder of the Holmes brothers. ‘We both know that John is too decent to let you get away without apologising.’

John felt Sherlock tense under his hand and he tightened his grip minutely to give him something to focus on rather than his temper. It didn’t seem to be working so he decided to intervene. ‘No, Mycroft,’ he said before his sub got into trouble. ‘I did not order him to come around here. He believe it was the right thing to do and asked if we could come around.’

Mycrofts sneer hadn’t left his face even as he pushed his own hand into Gregs rather short hair. ‘My brother does not know the meaning of the phrase ‘the right thing’.’

Sherlocks head dropped even lower still, his backside was stinging more now than it had in the last 12 hours and he couldn’t work out if that was through fear or shame or both, whatever it was, he didn’t appreciate it. It was just making the situation more difficult for him to deal with.

‘Mycroft I give you my word, this was Sherlocks decision, and even if it wasn’t you should be proud that your brother had the guts to apologise, something I believe he is not accustomed in doing.’

‘He did it for you, John, don’t kid yourself.’

John glanced down at his boyfriend as if noticing for the first time that since kneeling he hadn’t actually moved an inch; back straighter than ever, hands clasped behind him, he looked gorgeous and for one very long moment the Captain wished they were back in Baker Street. However, the fact that the detective was not defending himself spoke volumes but the tightly white clenched fists at the small of his back made John realise that he was right on the edge of a tantrum.

‘Does it matter why he did? He apologised and the least you could do is accept it!’ John felt his own temper rising, not just at his fellow doms insensitivity towards his brother but the fact that Sherlock was doing so well to control his temper made him fight to gain control of his own.

‘I do,’ came a rather timid voice from by the sofa, ‘thank you Sherlock.’ Greg hadn’t looked up but decided that he wasn’t a stranger to Sherlocks rudeness but this was the first time he had apologised.

John looked down to face Greg and was glad to look away from Mycrofts scrutinising gaze, even if he was looking at the leg of the coffee table.

‘Thank you, Greg,’ the doctor said, remarkably softer than he thought was possible, given how constricted he felt his breaths were.

He waited for Sherlock to speak but realised he was waiting for permission, his silent tap got the response of ‘Thank you, Lestrade,’ he, the same as Greg, didn’t look up or acknowledge him in any other way which must have told everyone in the room he meant it, if anyone in the world knew Sherlock enough to judge him it was the other three people in the room. He continued; ‘Mycroft, I really am sorry for any upset I caused you or your sub. I didn’t mean it, but I failed to contain myself, for which I apologise. A-and to prove to you how sorry I am I won’t come to cases for a week.’

Greg raised his head slightly but he didn’t speak, he knew a comment at this stage would just anger Mycroft further, since he had mentioned Sherlock (which was an accident) he was like a walking, talking bomb. Not only did he not want to be on the receiving end of it when his friends were gone but he was pretty sure the young detective would be on the receiving end also.

John was staring at the top of Sherlocks head in shock, that statement had caught him a bit off guard; he hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort at home or in the cab from Baker Street. Sherlock, the great detective, offer of his own free will to give up cases? It had shocked him so much he had to remember where he was to recover. He cleared his throat. ‘Now you tell me that was not what he thought was best.’

Mycroft watched his younger brother with a deadly glint in his eye. ‘Very well, I accept your apology Sherlock.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Sherlock said so softly after a second tap that they nearly missed it.

‘Right, well, we’ve come and said what we needed. C’mon Sherlock.’

‘Won’t you stay for lunch? Greg’s cooking.’

‘No, I think you have made your feelings towards Sherlock right now quite plain. Greg may be your sub and I would expect nothing less than for you to back him up but Sherlock is mine and I will do the same at every turn, and I think considering Greg has the decency to forgive Sherlock for a bad couple of weeks that you could forgive your brother too. Obviously I was wrong. Up Sherlock we’re leaving.’

He petted his shoulder firmly and with a quiet ‘yes, sir,’ Sherlock rose gracefully to his feet and turned to help John on with his coat.

‘Thank you, Sherlock.’

Greg didn’t fail to notice the slight wince from the younger Holmes brother as he moved and didn’t need to be the worlds only consulting detective to work out what had happened. He suddenly felt bad for him, yes he had been a prat and maybe a bit more than normal, but the Yard hadn’t exactly been teeming with crimes recently and Sherlock wasn’t the only one who found cold cases boring. _And_ he had only, accidentally mentioned what a bad week it was to Mycroft so this was his fault, it made him feel even worse that Sherlock didn’t seem bothered by what had obviously transpired when John had got home last night, it was clearly a painful experience. It also didn’t help that Sherlock had actually apologised, and whether it was of his own free will or not for him to do so was incredibly brave.

With a glare at Mycroft, John led the way out of the flat and down the stairs Sherlock trailing half a pace behind him. John continued to shot worrying glances over his shoulder, for any other sub walking slightly behind their dom was normal, expected, but for Sherlock, it was anything but. He was usually striding ahead in a hurry with John trailing behind or at the very least he would side by side with him.

John hailed down a cab and waited for it to pull over. ‘You ok?’

Sherlock glanced up, startled. ‘Of course, sir.’

He climbed into the cab after the older man and knelt at his feet.

‘You know Sherlock, these seats aren’t as hard as you think, you’d probably be more comfy up here than on your knees, if you wanted a cuddle?’

‘N-no, sir, I-it’s fine,’ Sherlock couldn’t quite place it, but it felt like he deserved to be at Johns feet and not sat up next to him. He told himself it was because of the previous evenings activities that he stayed on the floor. He added a belated; ‘sorry, sir.’

John sighed. ‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry about anymore. You behaved very well in there, I’m proud of you. Very proud of you, in fact. Your brother wasn’t easy…’

‘He never was,’ Sherlock said quietly, sadly. He looked away from John and out of the far window so the Captain couldn’t catch his gaze.

‘But you did well.’

The usual grin that he got from that sort of praise didn’t appear and the detective dropped his head again. John apprehensively returned his hand back to Sherlocks hair, it usually received some form of response, whether it was a nudge or a smile. ‘Right, Mr Holmes! What is it?’

‘Nothing, sir. Honestly I’m fine.’

‘Don’t make me order you Sherlock.’

‘There’s nothing to order me to say sir, there is nothing wrong.’

John sighed again, he was fairly sure it was more than just a sore backside but he didn’t press matters, Sherlock would talk to him eventually and he doubted it would be in the back of the cab, so he manoeuvred himself around the figure on the floor so he was knelt between his legs and went back to stroking his head with one hand and rubbing the back of his neck with the other feeling the strong length of leather around Sherlocks neck.

 


	5. Indecisiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock struggling to come to terms with what Mycrofts relationship with Greg does to his relationship with Mycroft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to my brilliant beta crazycatt71, I forgot to mention it last chapter! I do apologise!  
> be warned naughty word in this chapter :)

‘Do you fancy some lunch?’ John called through to the detective as he finally caught him up; a disadvantage of being so short in comparison.

‘If it’s all the same, sir,’ Sherlock said from the bedroom door. ‘I’m not hungry, I’m just going to go back to bed.’

It was half past one in the afternoon. Sherlock hated going to bed at the best of times, even well after midnight some days John would literally have to drag him over the threshold of the bedroom.

‘Sherlock it’s been a rough morning, you’re going to eat something, I’ll cook us some pasta and then I’ll take another look at those bruises of yours.’

‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.’

John watch on in silent confusion as Sherlock moved into their bedroom and disappeared from sight, the bedroom door remained open so he must have actually got into bed to be hidden. His sub was never this subdued, especially after a meeting with Mycroft, and the detective’s reaction is rather the opposite of what John would expect after an encounter that was as eventful as the one they had just had. The only way Sherlock was quiet like this was when they were in the middle of something, that something that seemed to happen less and less; as they grew closer together Sherlock needed less and less ‘entertaining’ and they just grew to love each-others company whatever the form of it. He would find out what was going on though, but first he better get some food in him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t eaten for days as he hadn’t been on a case so he didn’t have an excuse for John when he forced food on him but he still wanted him to eat regular meals. Maybe if he managed to get him so used to meals normally he would miss them on case days.

He filled the kettle up as much as he could and flicked the switched, then turned to get the pasta from the cupboard. Putting enough in the pan for two portions he waited for the kettle to boil before filling the saucepan with the right amount to speed things up and setting it to a low simmer. He slipped a lid on the pan and finished off making two mugs of tea before calling out; ‘Sherlock?’

‘Sir?’ Came a rather nervous response from inside their room. That was good he hadn’t snuck out without John noticing, that was always a comfort.

‘Here you go, Trouble.’ He placed the mug on the dresser besides where Sherlock was laying, face down, hiding in the pillow.

‘Thank you, sir,’ came a muffled response. He hadn’t raised his head and John was instantly more worried than he had been a few minutes ago.

‘Lift your head up Sherlock, c’mon.’

He shook his head slightly. ‘What is it?’ the doctor asked cautiously. When no response came he rested his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, surprised to see him flinch under the touch. ‘Come to the surface Sherlock, and talk to me. Please.’

Sherlock let go of the pillow and glanced up at his dom briefly. His eyes were red and it appeared that he had been upset for a while.

‘Ok, Sweetheart what is it?’

He sat down on the bed next to him and laid his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder again to offer some comfort in the awkward position Sherlock had got himself into. He had even got his feet tangled in the sheets. ‘C’mon, tell me.’

‘M-Mycroft was right, sir.’

‘Mycroft?’ _Damn him._ ‘Right about what?’ the doctor had to force himself to keep his anger from his voice.

‘About me sir. I only behave because of you. You said it yourself I was perfect in there in front of Myc but I got angry and only calmed because you had your hand on my head. I thought I was going to lose it and then I would have been in trouble again. But you kept me straight.’

‘Sherlock, that’s what I’m here for.’

‘No, you’re here to boss me about and punish me for breaking rules,’ John would have snapped at him instantly if it wasn’t for the broken way he said it and the look on his face; he genuinely believed what he was saying and added, ‘and yet you… care.’

‘Care?’

‘The way you stuck up for me in front of my brother…’

‘Yes, of course I care. I’ve been with you for over four years.’

‘But you have only been my dom for two,’ Sherlock countered.

‘You can care for someone before being involved with them.’

John felt out of his depth, it was like trying to explain the science of the universe to a toddler. He took a deep breath as he thought on how to proceed. ‘When you decided to fake your death by jumping-’ he held his hand up as Sherlock was about to intervene. ‘I cared then didn’t I? Even though at the time I was not your dom and it took me about three weeks to work out the truth so of course I went to the funeral and at that moment in time believing the lie you had spun to save us, I cared. I even visited your grave before I figured it out, you know I did, you told me you had seen me there.’

‘Oh.’

‘Exactly. Now of course you’re going to want to behave to make me happy that’s why we fit together. Greg almost definitely feels the same towards your brother. That’s why he slid to his knees when Mycroft approached him at their flat, just like you did when I stopped.’ He ruffled Sherlock’s curls and grinned when he pushed his head up into the contact. He moved his hand down to tickle the spot just behind his ear. ‘I know you weren’t happy being submissive when this-we first started but it is where you feel comfortable now and that is what matters. Now I’m going to go and check on lunch, drink your tea and I‘ll be back in a minute. You’ll be ok?’

Sherlock nodded, reaching for his mug, but not moving into a comfortable position to be able to drink it, ‘Yes, sir.’

John sighed at the crestfallen look still on his subs face and regretfully made his way back out into the kitchen. He was slightly relieved that Sherlock had begun to open up to him, although he was sure it wasn’t the whole story but he really wished the detective would bring it up on his own and go to him when he was worried rather than hide and stew on it. They would have to work on that.

 

Quarter of an hour later John turned up again in the bedroom with a tray, heavy with two plates; Sherlock hadn’t moved.

‘C’mon, Baby try and sit up for me I know it’s going to be sore.’

‘But that’s the idea isn’t it sir?’ Sherlock said, his head appearing from the pillow again. ‘It’s not a very efficient punishment if the after affects don’t last after.’

‘No. No I suppose not. Why do you have to be so clever all the time?’

‘It’s why you’re here.’

John dropped his head momentarily. ‘No, I’m here because I love you, we’ve discussed this. You being clever is just a fortunate side effect. For both of us.’ He kissed the top of his head.

Sherlock smiled slightly and shifted around gingerly, he managed to manoeuvre himself around and winced as he leant back against the headboard.

‘Well done, sir.’

‘Well done?’ John was confused.

‘You did a number on my arse.’

He chuckled, glad to see his sense of humour hadn’t vanished without a trace. ‘You deserved it.’

Smiling sadly, Sherlock agreed. ‘I know sir.’

‘I don’t think we should mention it anymore. You apologised to me, which admittedly you have done before, but this time you also apologised to your brother and Greg, which I will admit surprised me and made me incredibly proud of you.’

He slid onto the bed next to the now sitting up form of his boyfriend.

‘I just…’

‘Go on,’ John encouraged placing the tray on his lap and lifting his own plate to his.

‘I felt it was what should happen and you said I was right. But Mycroft…’

‘Mycroft is an idiot. You know that, you grew up with him.’

The detective nodded with a thoughtful look on his face, as if he was contemplating how right John was without really realising it.

‘I don’t think he meant bad by it,’ John continued. ‘He is just protective of Greg.’

‘I know.’

‘Like I am protective of you.’

‘I know,’ he said again. ‘It’s just…’ he trailed off again struggling to put what he was thinking into words.

John tapped on the side of Sherlock’s tray. It was a stern tap, enough for Sherlock to know it meant; eat now or face the consequences, but Sherlock really wasn’t hungry, the sight of food was not making his appetite change. However, he obediently took a mouthful of pasta and changed his mind, grinning sheepishly at the doctor, who knew exactly what sort of thoughts were going through his head.

‘What are you worried about Sherlock?’ John was convinced there was more to Sherlock’s distress than just Mycroft’s protectiveness over his sub.

‘I know it sounds stupid and I know it seems unlikely but we used to be so close, me and Myc, but now…’

‘Are you… jealous?’ John looked incredulously at his boyfriend, an unknown gleam in his eye. The idea of Sherlock being jealous was never one he had needed to address before, especially concerning Mycrofts sub, they’d been together just under a year and he had never mentioned anything before. This was getting more complicated than John had originally thought.

‘No! I mean… no, sir. I’d call it envy rather than jealousy.’

John didn’t know whether to be hurt or not but Sherlock continued, ‘I know what I have with you is fantastic and I never expected it but since Myc found Lestrade he’s been really…’ the thought of being hurt by Sherlock’s words vanished to be replaced by a sense of understanding. He knew, that quite often Sherlock struggled to word things when it came to his emotions.

‘Shitty?’ John offered.

Sherlock smiled sheepishly and nodded, at this John continued, ‘hasn’t he always been like that though? I mean, he was when I first met you, outside of that building after the cabbie case.’

‘It used to be different. It used to be _with_ me and was more… banter,’ Sherlock seemed rather surprised at the word but carried on anyway, ‘but now it’s _at_ me.’

John raised his hand up and cuffed it behind Sherlock’s head bringing him down to whisper in his ear. ‘You’ve got no need to jealous, Sherlock, I’m pretty sure it’ll sort itself out, and if it doesn’t we will. Yes?’

Rather than a verbal response Sherlock spun his head to meet John’s lips and tried to hold on for as long as he could. However eventually, as inevitable as it was, John pulled away and simply said, ‘eat.’

‘Yes, Captain.’

John grinned.

 

The following morning John awoke before Sherlock as per usual. It was amazing how the detective absolutely detested going to bed and yet in the morning John had to make rules in order to get him out of it. He grinned at the sleeping figure next to him and ran his hand through his hair. He was lying face down, and had his head resting on John’s chest. They had obviously shifted in the night to accommodate Sherlock’s bruised backside. Last night they had discussed further about why Sherlock felt the need to automatically obey John and what he got out of taking charge but the doctor struggled to work out whether it had had the desired effect on him or not, he hadn’t seemed in a better mood when John had announced it was bed time. After a few minutes of pushing his hand through the detective’s curls he gently lifted him up and laid him on the pillow so he could slide out and head to the kitchen to get started on breakfast. Sleeping beauty protested quietly but settled when John was off the bed. The doctor chuckled silently from the doorway.

It was twenty minutes before he heard the bed creak and the shuffling of movement on the mattress. He’d paused on breakfast not wanting to wake Sherlock up after yesterday and not knowing how much longer he would be asleep for. He called through knowing Sherlock was awake but didn’t get any response.

Sighing, he got up from the armchair, placing his coffee on the table and padding over to their room, ‘c’mon Sherlock up you get.’

The man had managed to get himself back in the exact position John had left him in. ‘You know the rules Sherlock, get up straight away or you never get up.’

No response.

‘There was a time I couldn’t get you into bed,’ he sighed moving to yank the covers down slightly. ‘I know you’re away I heard the bed shifting.’

‘Making deductions now are we?’ he retorted his speech not distorted at all through the pillow.

‘Watch your cheek!’ John snapped.

‘Why should I? You are just going to cane me again whatever happens.’

The stern look on Johns faced transformed into one of concern. ‘This has got something to do with Mycroft hasn’t it?’

Sherlock just glared and hid back under the duvet.

‘Sherlock Holmes come out right now!’

John was now in complete dom mode and even that didn’t get a response out of the rather rebellious detective. He sighed, and closed the door behind him; something wasn’t right, he didn’t need to be a consulting detective to know that, but maybe if he could get him in the same room as Mycroft he might begin to see sense…


	6. By His Brothers Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes to Mycroft for help but in doing so Sherlock has left in a rather precarious position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to my amazing beta crazycatt71 and also sherlockian4evr
> 
> This was a fun chapter to write, even if I am slightly worried about the responses;  
> Warning: this chapter contains Mycroft domming Sherlock, however there is no physical sexual content between them but it is implied. It is purely Dom/sub rather than brother/brother and all characters see it this way.

Sherlock flinched under the sheet when he heard Mycroft’s voice just the other side of the bedroom door, he was too close for comfort when all he had on was pyjama bottoms. John had left the room an hour ago and Sherlock hadn’t heard him at all until he had got up to allow Mycroft into the flat. What was he doing conspiring with his brother? The man he knew had put him in this terrible mood in the first place.  

‘What’s he done John?’ Sherlock didn’t need to see Mycroft’s face to know he was in a foul mood, as per usual.

‘It’s not what he’s done, Mycroft it’s what he’s not done. He wont get out of bed. I’ve asked him to come and join me, he wont move. You really upset him yesterday.’

‘Upset him?’

'Yes. Upset him. He's not a robot.'

‘Right!’ the bedroom door swung open with enough ferocity to go through the wall. ‘Get off the bed Sherlock!’

Sherlock didn’t even look up. ‘Go away Mycroft.’

‘Get off the bed and get on your knees!’ John watched on in confusion from the bedroom door.

Sherlock couldn’t work out if it was the tone of his voice or just the fact it was Mycroft that he found himself rolling off the bed and bending his legs under him so he was knelt in front of his brother. His attitude had completely changed in an instant and he was looking at Mycroft’s highly polished shoes.

‘You never learn do you brother?’ Mycroft snapped sticking a gloved hand into his younger brothers hair and yanking his head back. ‘I’m surprised John even puts up with you.’

Sherlock stopped himself from glancing at his dom that was still stood hesitantly in the doorway; unsure whether to come in and help Mycroft or fight him off.

‘I’m sorry Mycroft,’ came the soft apology.

‘What was that?’ he growled.

‘I said, I’m sorry. Sir. You’re right about me being a useless sub-’

‘Now hold on a minute,’ John started, finally finding his voice. ‘I never said that Sherlock.’           

Mycroft shoved Sherlock forward to cut him off and he had to steady himself with his hands, as a foot was rested on his lower back when he tried to kneel up again. ‘John would you kindly wait in the other room this shouldn’t take a moment to sort out.’ He was glaring daggers at his younger brother and put more pressure through his leg to stop him moving. Sherlock collapsed onto his front and made sure he was facing the direction away from the door.

John waited a moment to see if the previously kneeling figure would look up so he could get some form of confirmation from his sub but when none occurred and Mycroft was making it increasingly more uncomfortable for the detective he sighed and shut the door behind him.

Mycroft grabbed his brother by the hair again and pulled him back up onto his knees.

‘You should start treating your dom with respect Sherlock.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Mycroft’s eyes widened slightly as the unexpected reply but snapped; ‘Get on the bed!’

Sherlock scrambled to obey as Mycroft turned to the couples’ rather extensive toy box that he knew was in the bottom of the wardrobe. He pulled out the cuffs a large plug and a gag which was practically identical apart from the buckles, a cock ring and the leash for Sherlocks collar.

He turned to face the detective and threw the ring down on the bed in front of him. ‘Put it on. You don’t want to find out what I do to you if you do not follow my instructions immediately with 100% accuracy.’

Sherlock hurriedly reached for the ring, slipped his pyjama bottoms down, just passed his thighs and slid it over his flaccid cock, hooking the correct part around his balls with a hiss. John never made him wear it, unless he specifically asked. He knew how much Sherlock hated it, he liked to obey on his own; it made John have that gorgeous gleam in his eye and made Sherlock feel warm and proud of himself for pleasing the doctor without the aid of toys.

‘Is that as tight as possible brother dear?’ Mycrofts voice jerked Sherlock from his thoughts of John and he had to stop himself sighing at this injustice. He decided just to take it and make it up to John later, he was obviously angry if he had pulled Mycroft over to deal with him.

‘Yes, sir,’ Sherlock responded quietly, resigned to his fate.

‘Face down,’ Mycroft snapped, not letting up one bit even though so far his younger brother had acted completely out of character and had not argued or hesitated at any order he’d presented him with. ‘Hands behind your back. Don’t let them touch each other.’ He then watched as he obeyed and rested his hands in the small of his back, they were balled up into fists and Mycroft presumed he knew what was coming. Well, Mycroft thought, time to catch him off guard. He place the plug in his hand. ‘You know what to do with it,’ he said. But yet again, to his surprise there was no groan or reluctance or argument just obedience.

He turned his back on him when his hands began to creep down his back. Why was he being so cooperative? He would usually be fighting him at every step of the way because that was what he had always done and he knew it irritated his older brother so much he ended up storming off and leaving him alone, but here he was fully cooperative; like he didn’t care what happened. He knew that John would be more than annoyed at this development, but he also knew John was aware of the fact that Mycroft was used to punishing him when he had issues with his previous doms. He spun around when he heard a stifled moan come from the bed. Sherlock had finished working the self-lubricating plug into his hole and was now back in position, his hands at his back and his hole was clenching absently around the intrusion. He shifted slightly to accommodate it; it was both the right length and the wrong length. It was perfectly fitted to rest on his prostrate which was great if it wasn’t for the rather uncomfortable metal ring around his length preventing him from getting much pleasure and no release whatsoever from it. Mycroft rested a light hand on Sherlock’s previously abused backside to steady him and he hissed at the contact.

Sherlock stopped himself from shifting when Mycroft touched him; he remembered what he had told himself; he knew he deserved to be punished, especially if John had sought his brother to deal with him rather than deal with him himself.

‘Doctor Watson has punished you sufficiently I see.’ Mycroft’s voice cut through the tense air like a blade.

‘Y-yes, sir,’ Sherlock stuttered his response.

‘I am also assuming judging by the fact that it doesn’t look as painful as it probably should and given his nature as a doctor, he is taking care of you rather than letting you live through it, like you deserve.’

Sherlock swallowed around the lump in his throat, nodding wordlessly into the pillow; Mycroft was right he did deserve it, so why was it John was always so keen on helping him to feel better after he’d been punished. Sherlock assumed it did have something to do with him being a doctor but he also doubted that, that was the only reason.

‘And how many did you get?’

‘Tw-twenty, sir. I- it was meant to be more but he stopped…’

‘I suppose, being a doctor permanent damage would be out of the window along with half of your ridiculous experiments… but you are incredibly lucky, if Greg was to find himself in this much trouble he wouldn’t be able to sit down for weeks… mind you, Greg would never find himself in trouble in the first place. He’s a good sub, unlike someone I am inconveniently related to.’

Sherlock didn’t doubt for a second that Mycroft would skip the whole comfort after punishment thing that John and also Sherlock, although he would never admit it, always enjoyed without fail when punishment was over.

Mycroft squeezed the cuffs around Sherlock’s wrists that had surprisingly remained behind his back, which wasn’t a comfortable position to hold when nothing was stopping them from falling to his sides. He hissed slightly when the elder Holmes brother tightened them as far as he saw fit, but he didn’t struggle and he certainly didn’t comment on what Mycroft had done so far. It didn’t stop him from being rough though he yanked his younger brother back by his curls and watched as Sherlock swallowed awkwardly when the cock shaped gag was brought to his lips. He opened his mouth, with enough reluctance to prove he wasn’t going to enjoy this but little enough to not cause Mycroft to reprimand him as he pushed it in and buckled it up.

‘Now be quiet brother dear, I’m busy,’ he growled smacked him on the back of the head as he gagged when it touched the back of his throat. He then clipped the attachment from the back of the gag to the hook on the back of the collar to keep it in place, he knew that if Sherlock was to struggle enough he could easily persuade the buckles to ride up and fall loose.

Sherlock let his head drop into the pillow when Mycroft released his grip. The gag was just too long to be comfortably accommodating. It brushed the back of his throat and it took the detective a moment to adjust to the new intrusion, it was alright, he figured, if he didn’t swallow too fast, or breathe too erratically. Once again Sherlock was sure without a shadow of a doubt that his brother had picked it for that very purpose. It appeared to Sherlock, laying there thinking about this new development between him and his brother that this had been planned down to the very letter, almost as if the git had been plotting all night to make him as uncomfortable as possible without properly tying him up or giving him too much pleasure. He choked slightly when he was brought roughly from his thoughts (he was doing that a lot lately; getting distracted and then being caught off guard) when the leash was buckled to the same D ring as the gag and was looped around the bed frame.

Sherlock sighed in relief and relaxed slightly into the mattress when Mycroft wasn’t in the immediate vicinity, but he soon became tense once more when he heard him routing through the box in the wardrobe and flinched when he realised what plug it was. Mycroft had found the remote and turned on the vibration settings. Sherlock really should have noticed before; he had to have a good feel of the plug to be able to fit it inside himself properly without causing any damage; he obviously had more important things on his mind... again.

‘You don’t move nor make a sound, little brother,’ Mycroft ordered as he turned to open the bedroom door and with that he was gone.

‘What have you done with him?’ John demanded the second Mycroft was in range.

‘He’s asleep,’ Mycroft lied smoothly. ‘He said he didn’t feel well we discussed it and he said that was why he felt off this morning.’

‘Why couldn’t he tell me this?’

Mycroft found his umbrella on the settee and began swinging it around without a care in the world. He paused for a moment as if considering. ‘Why does my baby brother do anything?’

John shrugged, conceding. ‘Fair point.’

‘Either way, we’d best give him a few hours. You know how tetchy Sherlock can be when he is stressed.’

‘You managed to settle that surprisingly quietly,’ John commented.

‘Like I said, he just didn’t feel well. The last thing he would want to do would be to shout, no? Anyway enough of the discussion of the burden to both our lives, do you fancy some lunch? Café around the corner?’

‘Sure, maybe I should just go and see Sherlock first, just to let him know we’ll be gone.’

‘No need. Like I said, he’s asleep, at least he was when I closed the door. He’ll be fine, even if he is sulking for some reason.’

John shrugged again, ‘I suppose I can deal with him when we get back.’ He grabbed his jacket and scribbled a quick note down on his pad to leave on the side in case Sherlock woke up earlier than he should and followed the older Holmes brother out of the flat.


	7. Disrespected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proof that Sherlock is ok

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quicker update than normal as I felt the need to reassure you lovely readers that Sherlock is fine, updates may be a bit more spread after this as exams are coming up!

An hour and a half later John and Mycroft returned to the flat, both relatively cheerful after a discussion into Sherlock’s recently progressing behaviour. John was admittedly a lot more impressed because Mycroft just couldn’t believe that Sherlock could behave like any other sub.

John chucked his jacket over a chair in the kitchen and went into the bedroom before Mycroft could see him. What he discovered was so far from what he expected he nearly turned and punched Mycroft in the face there and then; Sherlock, face down, cuffed, plugged, gagged, sweating and sobbing quietly to himself as he tried to stop wriggling into the plug’s movements. His pyjama bottoms had slid down his legs to land in a heap by his ankles and his rosy backside looked more painful than ever.

‘Mycroft Holmes what the hell have you done?!’

He assessed the situation quickly and knew immediately that he needed to prioritise everything he did now, for Sherlock at least would be incredibly uncomfortable. First, he decided, deal with Sherlock’s obviously depressing arousal.

He immediately raced to his lover and snatched the control from the unit flicking it off. Sherlock sagged into the bed, his breath ragged and rough through the gag. John gently rested his hand on Sherlock’s back and rubbed him softly as he moved his hand around to remove the cock ring.

I’m just going to rest you on your side for a moment, baby, okay?’

Knowing a response wasn’t possible he slowly manoeuvred the younger man onto his side, wary of his arms but needing to deal with things in order.

There was a damp patch on the sheets where the cock ring had only allowed pre-come to sneak out. He was incredibly hard and it appeared the ring had been trying to prevent the impossible. He moved around so he could lay in front of Sherlock and with one hand softly removed the ring, rubbing his rock hard length, and with the other ran it through his curls as gently as he could. ‘Come if you can pet,’ John whispered.

It took John a matter of seconds and Sherlock came immediately but coughed and gagged. Second, John reached up and removed the gag from his mouth. The detective looked across at him terrified and John kissed him softly, massaging his jaw. Sherlock continued to sob quietly to himself, John’s heart clenched at his broken boyfriend and a surge of anger ran through him.

‘I-I’m sorry, sir,’ Sherlock whimpered, bringing John out of his mental list of things he was going to do to Mycroft when he got his hands on him. John shuffled over so Sherlock could rest his head on his lap and he continued to run his hand through his hair trying to offer some form of comfort.

‘Shh,’ he whispered back. Third, he reached over to the draw where they kept emergency supplies of water and a few straws. Quite often they’d play and then they couldn’t be bothered to get up for a drink, so John had prepared the perfect solution. He set the bottle up so he could hold it and Sherlock could drink from it himself. ‘Drink,’ he ordered. ‘All of it.’

Sherlock nodded once and grabbed the straw between his teeth.

Once John was happy that Sherlock was at least minutely more comfortable than he had been when he had walked into the room, he turned his gaze on Mycroft who had been stood in the doorway watching the events unfold silently.

‘I called you around here to help him, to apologise to him, not tie him up!’ he yelled, instantly regretting it when Sherlock flinched and let the straw fall from his mouth. ‘I’m sorry, baby, here,’ he passed the straw back between his teeth and kissed the top of his head.

‘I was helping him,’ Mycroft said. ‘You made the mistake of asking John, he’s your sub, tell him what to do.’

‘No, the mistake I made was asking you for help. I will not make that mistake again.’

Mycroft watched him an amused glint in his eye.

‘How dare you do that to him and then tell me he was feeling unwell and how dare you make me leave him on his own like this!’ Johns voice had risen up again and he took a deep breath, he needed to have this out with Mycroft in the hallway but he didn’t want to leave Sherlock on his own; god knows what the detective thought of him right now after leaving him alone with his brother- _monster_? ‘You can leave us alone now and go and boss poor Greg about.’

Mycroft glared at him.

‘Hit a nerve did I?’

‘He wasn’t on his own, Anthea is out in the car monitoring the situation.’

‘Bloody surveillance! Well you can turn it off. Sherlock needs protecting; yes. He needs to be watched to stop him doing something stupidly dangerous; yes. But that is my job not yours! He needs your approval Mycroft not your anger. He’s just worried your falling further away and he doesn’t want to lose you, frankly the way you treat him I’m struggling to understand.’ He heard the last dregs of water go up the straw and paused to look down at the still sobbing detective. ‘Do you want some more?’

Sherlock nodded, once. John reached over and opened the drawer again setting up more water with the straw and turning back to Mycroft.

‘You know what happened to him when he was away! Did you not think this through? And why the fuck did he apologise to me? What did you say?’ He didn’t want to wait for a response, he would get one from Sherlock when he was ready. ‘He had two years of shit like this! And yet you do it to him. How the hell is he supposed to feel safe here now? You can be a right bastard Mycroft Holmes! Now leave our flat and do not return until you have an apology for my boyfriend. Go!’ he added when Mycroft was going to protest.

Mycroft had gone white as a sheet as realisation dawned on him with what he had actually done. He sent his little brother a worried look; concern now filling his features. ‘Sherlock-’

‘Leave Mycroft!’ John snapped when Sherlock trembled in response to the elder Holmes’ voice.

Realising he had well and truly cocked up, he nodded once before leaving and closing the bedroom door behind him.

John glared at the door for a moment but controlled his temper and returned to the fourth problem at hand; the plug. He moved down the bed and slowly eased it out as painlessly as he could manage, however he knew whatever he would do and however he did it, it would hurt him and he was right as evinced by Sherlock’s whimper. John reached up and grabbed the bottle before it toppled over, ‘I’m sorry baby, I know you’re sore, but it had to come out.’

Sherlock nodded slightly, still sobbing quietly.

‘Are you finished with the water for now?’ John asked.

‘Yes, sir,’ he whispered, still not looking at John, he was struggling to understand why John was being so nice to him. He had clearly displeased him to make him go to Mycroft.

The doctor manoeuvred himself around so he was laying in front of his detective again and softly ran a hand through his hair.

Problem five. ‘I’ve left the cuffs till last because your arms are going to be uncomfortable, but I need to uncuff you Sherlock,’ he said quietly. Sherlock was beginning to calm and John didn’t want to upset him by scaring him or making him jump but he also didn’t want to disappear and do anything without his consent, especially if he was out of sight. ‘Is that ok?’

Another small nod.

‘Roll onto your front then babe.’

John quickly set to work in removing the handcuffs. The Captain winced at the sight of his wrists; they would have already been slightly sore from his punishment a few days before but now they were red and raw, John did a quick examination of his hands to check that the circulation hadn’t been limited. Well at least Mycroft hadn’t been too rough and had thought things through when he dealt with the handcuffs, even if that appeared to be the only thing he had thought through.

John found himself lost in thoughts that would end in a prison sentence again and glanced down at the unmoving figure. At first he thought he’d fallen asleep, but his breathing was still ragged as the last of his tears seemed to fall.

‘Roll on to your back, pet,’ John whispered, attempting to support his limp arms. When he managed it, rather clumsier than usual, John began to massage each arm in turn. Sherlock watched what he was doing, through red rimmed eyes, and John saw confusion hidden away, along with fear.

‘Hey, beautiful boy, look at me.’

Cautiously Sherlock raised his eyes to meet the doctor’s but he quickly looked away. There it was again, the nice tone. He’d assumed that John would want to leave, if not permanently then for a few days.

‘No, pet,’ John used his index finger to shift Sherlock’s chin. ‘It’s me, only me. Mycroft’s gone.’

‘I- I know,’ Sherlock’s voice was tight but it sounded better than it had earlier. ‘I just thought…’ he trailed off. _You didn’t want me anymore, that I was too much trouble_.

‘Thought what?’ John encouraged softly, not wanting to push him at this point if he didn’t want to talk but letting him know it would be ok to say anything.

He shifted so the detective’s head could rest on his lap again and Sherlock seemed to melt into him.

When he didn’t get a response he tried again. ‘Sorry for what?’ he asked.

‘Sir?’

‘You said sorry to me when I first came in. What did Mycroft say to you to make you apologise to me?’

‘N-nothing.’

John paused the rubbing his hand was doing on the back of his neck and applied a slight pressure, normally Sherlock wouldn’t take note, but at the moment it was clear that John was displeased and this time he wanted a proper answer.

‘He said I didn’t deserve you and…’

‘And…’

‘I agreed with him!’ Sherlock finally snapped, the softness of Johns voice finally getting to him. ‘He’s right, I am incompetent, I don’t know why you put up with me and neither did he. That’s what he said and for once my stupid stuck up brother was right.’ Sherlock’s worry and fear had gone only to be replaced by sudden anger and hatred, although at who or what John wasn’t sure. He hoped Mycroft, but Sherlock’s brain worked in overdrive all the time so he could be angry at anything. ‘Go on,’ he snapped. ‘Why don’t you ring him, say he’s right, it would make his day. Tell him how I never do anything I’m told and that-‘

‘Sherlock,’ John growled, clearly a threat but concerned as well.

But the activities of the morning had caught up with him and he couldn’t stop himself. ‘I’m so useless as a sub that I have to sit in the corner when I’m naughty-‘

‘Kneel!’ John ordered, hating the need for this, especially after the morning he had had but it was the only way he could think of to prove a point.

Confusion laced the detective’s features but he shifted off the bed to fall to his knees and winced.

‘You were saying?’

‘But that’s because you told me to.’

John just glared at him and continued to glare at him.

‘Oh.’

‘Exactly. For such a bloody genius you can be incredibly dumb.’

Sherlock returned the glare but immediately realised he was doing it and apologised.

‘It’s ok, come up here.’

‘You’re not going to punish me for arguing and glaring at you?’ If Sherlock wasn’t confused before, he definitely was now. Usually, although not a strict Dom, John did demand respect and Sherlock had clearly been disrespectful.

‘I just made you kneel to prove a point and after what Mycroft did, do you really think I am going to punish you further?’

‘I didn’t mean to upset him, sir,’ Sherlock said when he was back on the bed.

‘I know, sweetheart.’

‘But I don’t understand.’

‘Understand what?’

‘Why you’re here.’

‘You’re upset and in need of desperate aftercare where else would I be?’

‘But aren’t you going to leave?’

‘Never.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, find out what Greg thinks of this whole palaver!!   
> For now, as ever, please leave your thoughts!


	8. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit more of that desperately needed aftercare!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so no Greg yet, but seeing as I'm updating a lot earlier than I had planned, I hope you guys don't mind. The whole studying thing was becoming incredibly dull so I wrote instead, therefore the next chapter is already written and will be up in the next week and it definitely has Greg!
> 
> thanks to my Beta's crazycatt71 and sherlockian4evr as per usual!!

When Sherlock had seemed to completely ignore John’s response and didn’t reply worry continued to creep up John’s chest. ‘Did you really think I was going to leave, Sherlock?’

‘Well, you went to Mycroft, Sir, I must have really upset you for you to go to him rather than punish me yourself. I assumed after my recent punishment you were fed up.’

John shook his head sadly. ‘No, pet, what did I say to you in the cab yesterday?’

‘That I’m yours. Forever.’

‘I meant it Sherlock, together forever. I don’t say that sort of thing lightly,’ John tried to hide the hurt in his voice and knew he hadn’t quite managed it when the detective looked up at him.

‘You said you agreed with him. Why would you do that?’

He looked away again, trying to reign in the fear of what he had been thinking before it overwhelmed him.

‘I am-was so used to being on my own John, I’m sorry.’

The fact that Sherlock had referred to him as John rather than Sir spoke volumes.

‘But we’ve been together, as in together for two years. Why are you thinking about being on your own now?’

Sherlock sighed, this conversation was going around and around in circles.

‘Because you went to Mycroft, you must want to leave.’

John leant back against the headboard in shock, where was all this coming from? He understood that he’d messed up getting Mycroft to come over but did Sherlock honestly believe he knew that his brother would treat him that way after what had happened after his ‘fall’. 

‘No!’ he found himself saying in outrage. He immediately regretted his tone due to the outright terror on Sherlock’s face. What had Mycroft done? Did he realize the extent of what he had done? John’s voice had risen dramatically but his anger wasn’t at Sherlock it was at the lack of trust he had formed between them, and if the detective had been in the right frame of mind he would have known that, but judging by the look on his face, he had no idea.

‘Oh, Sherlock,’ he moved his arm back so Sherlock leant against his shoulder rather than his chest and tilted his head to kiss him. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you feel this way. But I love you and you really are mine forever. Nothing, not your experiments, not the cases, and certainly not Mycroft will change that.’

Sherlock’s eyes were bristling with unshed tears, and John realized that he had actually been quite sentimental and apparently that had been effective in getting through to his detective. For once, the sentiment hadn’t left John with a list of insults the size of Baker Street.

‘What is it Sweetheart?’

Sherlock shook his head, as if to clear it, he opened his mouth to say something and the look on his face suggested it was going to be important but he just closed his mouth again and rested his head back under Johns chin.

‘Do you fancy a cup of tea?’ he asked instead a moment later.

‘Yes,’ John responded automatically. ‘Yes, that is probably a very good idea.’ John realized that Sherlock had probably spoken enough about emotions and things to last him a lifetime. ‘Like normal.’

‘I’ll get it Sir,’ Sherlock made to rise from the bed.

Back to Sir again, John noticed, the detective had realized his judgement had clearly been wrong even if he didn’t fully understand how or why.

‘No, you need to relax for a while after the morning you’ve had. I’ll get it.’

 

When they were both nursing a cup of tea each, John repeated his earlier question, aware that he had only sort of received a response. ‘Why do you suddenly believe I am going to leave?’

‘Mycroft.’ Well at least it was a better than no response even if it was less than the first time.

‘What did he say?’

‘What apart from saying I’m not good enough and that you deserve someone loads better? Well he implied… You know?’

John sighed and struggled to form the way he could say it without sounding harsh even if he felt it was fully justified, he needed Sherlock to make his own decision in his own time, especially after his events with closing down the network and all that entailed. He still didn’t know all of it and he was sure Mycroft knew just as much if not more just by glancing at Sherlock when he found him and making a few deductions. At least Sherlock had opened up to him, it may have taken time, he was pretty broken when they had both reacquainted with one another, but his knowledge directly came from Sherlock, not just from the way he had looked when he returned. John prided himself on that knowledge, that out of everybody, even his brother Sherlock trusted him the most. However one thing for certain was, if he had anything to do with it, Mycroft would have a lot of groveling to do and he hoped the older Holmes brother realized the severity of his actions.

‘Look Sherlock, we don’t need Mycroft for relationship advice, it was working fine- we were working fine. You’d settled into your role perfectly and am I right in thinking, this time last week you didn’t believe any of this bollocks that Mycroft has spewed and the idea of me leaving hadn’t even crossed your mind?’

Sherlock paused for a moment to think things through. Apart from being bored when John went into the surgery for a few hours, nothing was wrong, and even that he had gotten fairly used to. John used his job there as release and, even though it was arguably sentimental, Sherlock understood that.

‘No, Sir. We were good.’

John sighed again, but this time it was relief, the detective had pondered for nearly 5 minutes before replying and for an agonizingly long moment John thought he had made a massive mistake and error of judgement.

‘So,’ he continued. ‘If we ignore everything Mycroft has said, has anything changed?’

‘No, Sir,’ this time his response was immediate.

‘Exactly. If you’re worried about something, you come to me, yes?’

Sherlock glanced up, his hair tickling Johns chin and the doctor reached up to hold his cheek. ‘Like I used to?’ the sub asked.

‘Yes, Sherlock, like you used to.’

‘Team Baker Street,’ he whispered returning back to his position on his Dom’s chest.

The doctor chuckled. ‘Does that include Mrs. Hudson?’

Sherlock quickly backtracked and shook his head.

‘Team B.’

 

Neither of the two men laying comfortably on the bed were aware of time or how much had passed. They didn’t really care either.

John had been concerned moments ago when Sherlock moved to shift his weight (what little weight there was) and had winced, although he tried to hide it, he was clearly in pain. He’d had him turn over to let his doctor side take control to assess the situation and examine his backside.

The welts had died down a lot, thanks to the gel he had been applying at regular intervals, much to Sherlock’s distaste. However it was still evident where each stroke had landed.

After Mycroft’s explosion of a reaction John felt more than slightly guilty about the extent to which he had punished Sherlock, he hadn’t known Mycroft to over-exaggerate. He had been a drama queen in the past just like his brother but given the circumstances the Captain had taken everything he had said at face value and he hadn’t expected him to lie especially not when defending his sub when Sherlock was involved. For all Mycroft’s faults (right now, John could write a list that would fill three books worth of notes on) he did genuinely care for his brother, or so he thought. He had known the detectives older brother just as long as he’d known the detective and he didn’t realize that the older Holmes brother even considered that level of sentimentality but from his treatment of his younger brother he clearly held more sentiment than the doctor thought. Sherlock had been punished not only on Mycroft’s words but on what John had witnessed and if he thought back on it, Mycroft had mentioned things John hadn’t noticed, not like that wasn’t unusual but when it came to his sub he tended to keep more than a close eye on him. Even Greg had accepted his apology fairly quickly and pain free and when Greg was angry enough he could stay in a pissy mood for ages.

He gently rubbed and massaged hoping to ease some of the pain and tension which was traveling through Sherlock’s body like lightning bolts but his subs reaction was not what he expected. He hadn’t moaned or yelped at his ministrations, which was when John noticed it wasn’t the faded purple of the cane marks it was the bright purple bruise in the area around where the plug had been seated that was causing Sherlock pain; and he could see why. He definitely didn’t envy him.

‘Sherlock, why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I was comfy, Sir.’

‘Ignoring this counts as putting yourself in harm’s way. Do I need to make you write it out five hundred times?’ John was only part joking and by the detectives response he must have realized that too.

Sherlock’s head had appeared over his shoulder so fast john thought the momentum would carry him off the other side of the bed. ‘No, Sir! No! I’m sorry, Sir. I should have said something.’

John smiled when his boyfriend’s head returned to the pillow he was crushing between his arms, the threat of lines was just as much of an effective punishment as the actual lines themselves. Even if it was a rather school boy way of handling him, it worked.

‘What happened?’ John asked him.

‘He um… made me do it,’ Sherlock said quietly.

‘What, put the plug in?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Did he prepare you first?’

Sherlock’s head moved in a negative fashion in the pillow.

‘Allow you to prepare yourself?’

The same response. ‘Sherlock! You let him!’

‘I didn’t really have a choice, Sir, he’s my brother and you had gone to him for help. I couldn’t shout for you or ask for you to stop him. It was self-lubricating though and it wasn’t overly large.’

‘It wasn’t small Sherlock, I pulled it out remember?’ John sighed. ‘I didn’t realize he would treat you like this,’ John repeated what he had said earlier, trying to reassure himself and rid himself of the guilt. ‘I thought he had more sense, he knows you don’t like it rough because of what happened a few years ago and he also knows that I tend to be the only person you don’t get on edge with. I don’t know what I expected him to do but it certainly wasn’t this.’

‘I know John.’

Those three words alone proved to the Captain that he really believed that… now at least.

‘You genuinely didn’t believe that did you? That’s why you thought I was going to leave; you thought I had turned to Mycroft to punish you because you weren’t listening.’ He dropped a hand on to his lower back and rubbed it slowly. ‘I knew it was him that upset you. I wrongly assumed it would be him that would… well, un-upset you.’

Sherlock smiled at the wording. ‘Honestly John. I believe you and its fine.’

John slowly straddled Sherlock’s back careful to avoid his bruised backside and for once was glad of the height difference between them as he laid down on top, nestling his chin in his collar bone. He blew in his ear and then nibbled at it when Sherlock’s shoulders tensed up and he grinned.

‘You are gorgeous. Did you know that?’

‘Well, Captain. Seeing as you’ve always told me to trust you and you’ve said that before then I guess I did know that.’

John laughed softly, his breath warm against the detective’s neck before he went back to nibbling at his ear.

 

They lay like that for a while and were quite comfy until Sherlock’s phone buzzed, vibrating softly against the unit.

‘You’re not going to get that baby?’

‘Leave it.’

‘But it could be a case.’

‘I’m comfy.’

John chuckled. ‘It could be important. You aren’t usually one for social messages.’

‘Well I’m spending time with you. Well… under you.’

‘I’ll order you if I have to Sherlock. It could be Greg and I know how much you need a case right now.’

Sherlock sighed and reached over to the unit when John rolled off him. ‘It is Lestrade,’ he sighed and moved back into Johns lap.

‘And?’

‘Not a case,’ Sherlock said quickly, it sounded to John, if he didn’t know him better, like he was… relieved. ‘He wants to meet at the pub tonight.’

‘Do you fancy it? It’ll be good to get out of the flat.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Hey, what is it?’ John asked returning his hand to his curls when he was staring off into space and hadn’t provided him with a reason why it would be a bad idea to be social.

‘Mycroft. Why do you think he did it?’

John didn’t need to ask what ‘it’ was and he wasn’t completely surprised at the change in subject. There was always so much going on in his head; John struggled to keep up; although even the detective himself agreed he was getting better.

‘You know you mentioned you were… not jealous as such but worried?’ Sherlock’s frown deepened but he nodded as John tugged him closer, in a silent claim. ‘Well I think, in his own way he feels the same.’

‘Mycroft doesn’t have feelings.’

‘Isn’t that what you told me a long time ago about yourself?’

‘I suppose. But it’s not the same John, Mycroft is a robot.’

‘Mycroft is in a relationship. It might not be quite as long standing as ours but he loves Greg and maybe he’s struggling to understand.’ The doctor couldn’t believe he was defending the sod.

‘He’s been with Greg a year, he may be dumb sometimes, to contrast his intelligence but I don’t think he’s quite that dumb.’

John chuckled. ‘You’re only calling him dumb because I called you dumb earlier.’

‘Seems fair.’

‘I think things need a while to settle, you know what your brother is like. He’ll be back to nagging at you continuously in a week and you’ll be complaining about him getting in the way again. Now, a shower I think!’ He patted his sub on the head.

‘Together?’ Sherlock asked hopefully.

‘Of course, Sweetheart. Stay there in the warm a moment, I’ll go and run it.’

A shower was just what they needed after the morning they had had.


	9. The right way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock begins to realise exactly what his brother did to him and John continues to go about putting it right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, just to be safe the rating is going up to explicit now.   
> But here we are the promised meeting with Greg and a kneeling Sherlock in the shower.  
> Thanks as ever, to my usual Betas! and specific thanks to sherlockian4evr who helped out when I got a little stuck!

John had intended on a quick shower even with Sherlock with him. What he didn’t expect was for Sherlock to lose focus on him half way through.

‘You’re thinking of Mycroft again aren’t you?’ John asked softly bring his hand up to cup Sherlock’s cheek.

‘Yes sir.’

‘Can you attempt to push him to the back of your mind palace? At least for now.’

Sherlock closed his eyes and cocked his head on one side the way he did when he was trying to think intensely about something, John always found it quite cute. He shook his head and the flash of panic that went across his face wasn’t missed by the doctor either. He was about to get caught up in something- a memory, probably an unpleasant one.

He wasn’t thinking about Mycroft exactly, more about what he had done.

Sherlock had spoken quite a bit about what had happened those two years and seemed to be a lot more open with John than he had been before he went away. And most of what he said wasn’t good. These little freezes and flashbacks did seem to happen more and more. John assumed it was because of how close together they were becoming, more and more, daily. Sherlock’s subconscious allowed him to relax around John, it was the same with the nightmares, he no longer tried to hide them.

With the water cascading over the both of them, the doctor knew that Sherlock needed grounding. His best-friend instinct was telling him to hug him but his Dom instinct was telling him to bring Sherlock back to the present, which a hug wouldn’t do- it would probably just make him panic at being restricted.

He rested his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and was surprised at the flinch, even though he didn't show it. He applied a bit of pressure and Sherlock’s eyes snapped open. Immediately understanding the command, he dropped to his knees; his head dropping.

‘Sherlock! Hey, Sherlock! Stay with me.’

He placed his index finger under the detective’s chin and encouraged him to tilt his head back. Even with the shower running John could tell that Sherlock was upset and extremely close to tears. He moved his fingers to the collar around the pale neck, tugging gently. ‘You're here, with me, not wherever you just went, okay? With me in Baker Street.’

‘Baker Street,’ Sherlock said quietly.

‘Yep, Baker Street, I even think Mrs Hudson is downstairs if you need proof.’

Humour didn't work. Okay…

‘You need distracting, something to remind you about the here and now.’

Sherlock stared at him, his eyes wide with worry, apparently he completely missed that comment.

‘Can you see the worthy distraction a few inches from you?’

Sherlock tried to smile but settled for another nod.

‘Go on then.’

 

Sherlock tentatively took John’s cock between his lips but he felt at a loss, the familiar motions inaccessible by his confused and distant mind.

John could sense his distress, something he had become accustomed to knowing. After all the years of knowing Sherlock and the two years being his Dom he had to know. He brought his left hand up to stroke behind his subs ear and rubbed circles with his thumb. This elicited a purr from the detective but he still appeared slightly confused; his brow furrowed.

‘Go on, pet, remember who I am, who you are.’

Sherlock glanced up at his Dom, slightly less worried than he had been a moment ago and spurred into action, even so his motions were erratic rather than the well-practiced strokes and caresses that he usually performed.

John knew that his sub was in need of further anchoring to the here and now. The events of earlier in the day needed to be driven from his mind, replaced by something positive. So he twined his fingers into Sherlock’s hair and began guiding his subs mouth along his length. He was rewarded with a moan of gratitude as Sherlock glanced up at him with cerulean eyes that blinked languidly as streams of water caressed his face. The water mingled and washed away the tears of earlier in the day.

Sherlock swirled his tongue around the head of John’s cock and over the slit, dipping just into it to savour the taste of his Dom. Taking in John’s full length, which he was very accustomed to doing, he hollowed out his cheeks and hummed deep in his throat. The tightening of his Dom’s hand in his hair reassured him and urged him to continue.

‘Shh, Sherlock, that’s right,’ John tried to reassure him but it came out rather ragged.

Even as John continued to moan encouragement at his sub, he worried the detective wasn’t fully concentrating on his task.

It took another few minutes of gentle encouragement and soothing words before he released the other man’s hair now that he was finally thoroughly engrossed in his task. Moving his hands to Sherlock’s neck, he began working the muscles there, stroking outwards and downwards along his shoulders and arms. John was forced to abandon this endeavour when his sub’s enthusiasm increased and the intensity of his tongue became too much.

Their eyes connected as Sherlock pulled off of John’s cock with a pop and licked a long stripe along the underside. He then dipped down to suck at his Dom’s bollocks, taking each testicle into his mouth and rolling around before releasing it. By this time, John’s head was thrown back in surrender to the sensation, all thoughts of the day’s stresses forgotten. Sherlock returned his attention to John’s cock and slid his tongue beneath the foreskin where it had ridden up over the head. He teased it back to reveal the head and swirled his tongue around it. He sighed in relief as he was beginning to realise where he was and the gentle massage John had been giving him drained the tension from his shoulders.

‘Good boy, Sherlock, you good, good boy. And mine, all mine.’

Feeling John’s tremble, he set up a rhythm of motion with his head and teasing with his tongue. The sub closed his eyes, enjoying the sweet feeling of being used, of providing service- for the right person, the only person he would probably ever do this for again. These feelings were driven home as his Dom came with a shuddering orgasm in his mouth. Sherlock swallowed it down greedily.

He was _owned_.

By John.

_John_ not Mycroft.

 

They had spent just over 20 minutes in the shower.

John had felt that the tension in Sherlock’s muscles slowly disappeared as John’s orgasm neared.

In all fairness he hadn't intended on doing anything with his sub after the morning he'd had but maybe he should have done something along the intimate lines earlier. His sub hadn't initially seemed as badly effected by Mycroft's actions as John had first thought he had. The Dom had instantly known the ramifications the events of earlier in the day could have had but his sub had coped surprisingly well. Sherlock must have been in some form of shock. The man had been dozy all afternoon and spoken about his feelings a lot more than he would usually.

John recovered from his orgasm and patted his sub on the head, Sherlock smiled up at him.

"You back with me, pet?"

He smiled and nodded dumbly.

The brief moment their eyes connected told John it had worked, he was still apprehensive which was his right, but now his eyes weren’t quite so glassy and distant and he found himself watching as Sherlock shifted on his knees slightly. It didn’t look comfy down there and the mat was in the bath not in here, after all, this was the last thing John expected from a ‘quick’ shower.

‘Stand up then Babe. And turn around.’

Sherlock obeyed and had to brace himself on John as he stood up, locking out his knees. ‘s-sorry,’ he stuttered.

John ignored the apology, favouring for the concern that was creeping back up his chest. ‘Are you alright?’

He nodded once and John grabbed him as he seemed to become dizzy again.

‘When was the last time you ate Sherlock?’

‘Er… Pasta. Sir. I think.’

‘That was yesterday.’

‘I’ve gone days before without even a mouthful.’

‘But not when we’ve played.’

He looked at him, confused slightly.

‘C’mon,’ John said pushing the curtain back and turning the shower head off. He found a towel and wrapped Sherlock in it before finding his own. He could imagine the look on Mycroft’s face if he had seen him, as the Dom, go and get a towel for Sherlock. _A sub_.

The Captain encouraged the bundle of white towards the bed and sat down next to him.

‘I always make you eat about an hour before and as soon after as we can manage.’

‘That’s not you being… well you?’

‘No it’s not me being me,’ he said softly. Sherlock had so many moments like this, like he didn’t understand what a Dom should be doing. He hadn’t said much about his previous relationships but from what he knew they weren’t overly pleasant and sometimes the things that Sherlock said and the things about relationships that all subs should understand made John wonder what sort of monsters Sherlock had been playing with. And it made him angry. His protectiveness of his gorgeous vulnerable sub would never go.

‘John? Sir?’ Sherlock’s voice was uncharacteristically soft.

John shook his head slightly. ‘Yes pet?’

‘I still don’t understand.’

John quickly backtracked before he asked what it was that his sub didn’t understand. ‘When we play, it’s like an adrenaline rush isn’t it? You know, like after that time we chased the cab over half of London. We were both out of breath whilst we were running but we kept going on adrenaline until we got back here and collapsed! What was the first thing I made you do then?’

‘Drink tea and eat toast.’

‘Exactly! That’s why I always give you crisp or chocolate. Now lie down pet I’ll give you one last check over.’

 

‘Hello Greg.’

Greg looked up from his pint and smiled slightly but his face looked absolutely down-heartened even more so when Sherlock knelt beside John rather than pull up another bar stool.

‘Am I right in thinking that we’re here as friends rather than-’

Sherlock swallowed hard and looked down at his knees that were folded up beneath him.

‘He um might struggle on one of these stools.’

‘Did you punish him again?’ Greg asked, doubting it even as he asked anyway.

‘No, it was, er… Mycroft.’ He felt Sherlock tense beneath him and rubbed his head affectionately.

‘Right.’ Greg turned back to the bar and ordered two more pints before handing them both to John and making his way over to the corner of the pub where there was comfy looking sofas rather than hardwood seats.

Sherlock sat down next to John after some silent encouragement. He wiggled until he was as close to his Dom as possible. John smiled lightly and squeezed his thigh.

‘So why do you look so glum?’ John asked the inspector.

‘Bad day.’

‘Bad how?’

‘Besides the fact that work is a nightmare, I find out that one of my best mates went through near-hell because of his brother.’

Sherlock looked up surprised. Whether it was the near-hell comment or the best friend one none of them knew the cause of his surprise.

‘You know what he did?’ John quizzed.

‘I know that he went over yours and punished him for no reason and was gone hours.’

‘He was well within his right to do so, Greg,’ Sherlock offered.

‘No he wasn’t. John had already punished you and if I managed to notice I’m fairly sure Mycroft did. He is your Dom and you are his responsibility. It was also a very surprising thing that you came over and apologised. Mycroft was so tense after that, that I went back out to work even though it was my day off. When John rang this morning I was sure he would come over and you’d sort it out. But he came back boasting, saying how he’d punished you for over an hour and John hadn’t noticed.’

This time it was the doctor who tensed up rather than the detective.

‘Did he say exactly what he did?’

‘No just that he’d punished him, after that I grabbed my jacket and left. Met up with Dimmock for lunch and text you.’

‘I need the loo,’ Sherlock announced suddenly.

They both looked at him in surprise. John guessed he knew where this conversation was going and wanted to miss the reminder.

‘You ok?’

Sherlock nodded rather than offer a verbal assurance.

John explained to Greg how he had been in the room with Sherlock less than 10 minutes and how after they had gone to grab some food, how he had lied about Sherlock not feeling well and then went on to tell him how he had walked into his bedroom and found him a few hours later. He didn’t forget to mention the cameras and Anthea’s involvement, whether it was against her will or not. He also mentioned his surprise at Mycroft boasting because he seemed rather angry with himself. Greg suggested that he was probably just putting up a front and John agreed with him because he had genuinely seemed ashamed of himself when he left. He explained it quickly because he didn’t know how long Sherlock was going to be and he got to the point where he kicked Mycroft out when Sherlock returned.

Sherlock knew what they had been discussing by how angry and tense they both were when he returned to his seat. But as soon as he sat down they made an effort to change the subject completely and began discussing the last case they had all been on together.


	10. Grounding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited scene for the boys!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I'm back, after dull exams the keyboard is once again at my mercy, here it is!

Very aware of how tense Sherlock was John hurried him into 221B pausing slightly when he heard Mrs. Hudson open the door from her own flat.

‘Everything alright dear?’

‘One moment Mrs. H.’ He turned back to Sherlock. ‘Bedroom. Strip and kneel.’ He put it bluntly knowing for a while his sub was going to be incredibly distant.

With a mute nod Sherlock disappeared, he turned back to Mrs. Hudson.

‘A bit of a distressing case I’m afraid.’

‘Oh? Really?’

John nodded. ‘Bit of a shock. He’s gone so long without one, even suggested to Greg that he wouldn’t turn up to crime scenes after his little disagreement but it was a bit close to home given what happened earlier.’

‘Of course, tell you what, you go and deal with Sherlock and I’ll bring you up a nice pot of tea.’  
John smiled and leaned down from the bottom step to give a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘Mrs. Hudson, you are a life saver!’

‘I know.’

 

‘Close your eyes Sherlock,’ John ordered as he entered their bedroom.

John didn’t need to be in front of the detective to know he had obeyed as he closed the door behind him.

‘Do I need to blindfold you Sherlock?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you told me to close my eyes Sir.’

‘Good answer, Pet. Now keep them closed for me.’

John slowly paced around the kneeling figure, waiting for Mrs. Hudson, he didn’t want to get started and be interrupted in an awkward position.

It wasn’t long until Sherlock startled when he heard the door to the flat open and John dropped his hands to his shoulders and rubbed soothingly.

‘It’s just Mrs. Hudson, I said we’d be busy and she said she’d bring up tea. Now wait there a moment.’

John left the bedroom and returned less than 30 seconds later. This time he locked the bedroom door and placed the tray on the side table. 

There was enough there for the both of them, and their landlady had even put it on the new pot warmer she had bought recently.

‘Drop your hands, Sherlock and put them behind your back, grip your wrist with your left hand.’ John deliberately gave him specific instructions, knowing that he would worry and ponder too long trying to do what he thought John wanted- it was easier for both of them to tell him.

Sherlock was ready to lose all of his control, not only was he ready, he wanted it and most of all he needed it.

‘Good, Pet,’ John whispered, his breath hot on Sherlock’s ear. The lack of reaction meant that Sherlock was incredibly close to subspace already.

‘First of all I’m going to tie this up,’ he softly took Sherlock’s length in his hand and rubbed it, Sherlock moaned softly, and John moved his lips down to meet his subs who welcomed it.

Sherlock took a deep breath when the doctor stepped back and whimpered when the warm presence on his cock was gone. ‘Shh, Pet, patience.’

‘Sorry, Sir,’ Sherlock mumbled and John grinned.

‘Good boy. My gorgeous brilliant boy. Now I’m not going to gag you because I think that would be too much of a reminder of the other day, right Sherlock?’

‘Yes, Sir, Thank you Sir.’

‘However you aren’t to speak unless asked a direct question understood Pet?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Good boy. My boy.’ John eyed him almost hungrily. ‘You would do anything I asked wouldn’t you?’

Sherlock hummed happily already feeling the stresses of the day disappear out through his toes. ‘Yes Sir.’

‘Make sure you keep your eyes closed for me, Sherlock.’

Gently the doctor started to wind the thin rope around Sherlock’s cock and balls tugging it tighter until Sherlock was forced to lean forward panting slightly; his tongue poked out between his lips. John leant forward and caught his tongue gently between his teeth and Sherlock moaned, caught completely off guard, by his lack of sensual awareness. John moved away and quickly did some checks to make sure the rope wouldn’t cut of circulation or be too painful, he wanted Sherlock to feel it, not lose the feeling. The rope itself was thin enough to allow the Dom to be intricate but not thin enough that it would be rough, the last thing John wanted was to hurt Sherlock least of all when his brother had already managed to do so. He tucked in the small end and ran the other up towards the collar where he tied it off. John stood back and stared at the taught body in front of him. Sherlock’s body was like marble, pale and smooth and John still couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have Sherlock as his and most of all the submissiveness that came from his sub when they were together. He truly believed they were meant for each other.

He circled around the detective- his detective a few times before running his fingers over Sherlock’s back and up over his tense shoulders. Immediately his back arched and immediately he regretted it and had to bow forward slightly, he wanted to apologize but remembered if it wasn’t for his dick of a brother he would be gagged. John chuckled. ‘You can tell your predicament now then?’  
He nodded slightly, more than aware that that movement would aggravate the rope. John laughed again and plucked at the rope like Sherlock would do to his violin strings when he was in the mood to torture it. He whimpered slightly. ‘Keep your eyes shut Sherlock or do I have to blindfold you?’

Sherlock shook his head franticly a few times and then stopped, hissing through his teeth.

‘Such enthusiasm,’ John murmured. ‘It will only happen if you open your eyes. You’re in control of that small little detail, Sherlock.’

John sat back and made himself comfy on the bed for a moment, Sherlock, although not completely at the foot of the bed was a bit out of sight, the bedpost blocking Johns view. ‘Sherlock you know where you are in the bedroom don’t you?’

There was no verbal response, so John assumed he had either nodded or shook his head. ‘You can speak Pet.’

‘Yes, Sir, I know where I am.’

‘Right then, you can let go of your wrist and move around to my side of the bed, turn and face it and then get back into the position you are in now, you will crawl and you will not open your eyes, was all that clear?’

‘Y-Yes, Sir,’ Sherlock stuttered. He unclenched his fist and dropped forward so his palms were flat on the floor, his arms nearly giving way as he put his upper body weight on them. He had held them behind his back too tightly but he managed to catch himself and crawl forward, imagining what the bedroom looked like in his Mind Palace. At least this position eased the tension running from his collar to his balls.

It was hard for him to keep his eyes shut, not because he didn’t trust John, he did, for all he knew John could have left things in the way that he would fall over, but he knew him well enough that he would never do that, but because it went against his survival instinct, being in the dark when you have that ability not to be made him tense.

Even so, he crept forward a couple of paces and John grinned when all of the detective appeared in his view. ‘Come on, gorgeous boy,’ he gently encouraged. He’d moved back up against the headboard and was resting his arms behind his head. He idly thought about popcorn but knew by the time he’d moved to get it Sherlock would be sat beside the bed. John spotted the tea tray on the unit and poured their tea from the pot and added milk for them both and sugar for Sherlock.

By the time he had finished Sherlock was pretty much exactly where he had specified. ‘A bit more to the left babe.’

He shuffled slightly until John told him to stop.

‘I am going to bind your hands now Sherlock. Is that ok?’

He nodded.

‘A verbal response please Pet, I need to know you’re ok with this.’

‘You can tie me up, Sir. I trust you.’

John sighed; he had already noticed the difference in Sherlock’s posture compared to the one that was in the cab. He was a lot more relaxed, his shoulders were more rounded than they had been and John took encouragement from that. He leant forward for another kiss and nipped at Sherlock’s lip. ‘Good boy.’

He took another length of rope and began to bind the detective’s hands together behind his back, palm to palm. He ran his finger under the looser part of the rope to check it wouldn’t rub and then slowly bound his arms, making a criss cross of patterns up to his elbows. He kissed the top of his head when he whined slightly at the pull that the new position offered. The pull in his shoulders hurt, but it was a good hurt; it wasn’t Mycroft and it wasn’t Serbia. It was John, his John and he trusted him, more than anything. The tug in his shoulders behind his back meant that his chest was thrust forwards. He tugged the last knot into place before dropping into a press up position and blowing in Sherlock’s hole. Caught completely off-guard; again, Sherlock rocked forward and then gave a muffled yelp.

‘Something to say Sherlock?’

He nodded once.

John smiled; he adored his sub when he was in this mood, so pliant and passive. ‘Go on then, Pet.’

‘That was cruel, Sir,’ he complained.

This time the doctor chuckled. ‘If you’re making complaints Sherlock you can’t be in subspace yet.’

‘I was holding off, but I am close.’

‘You are the only sub I have ever met that can hold off.’

Sherlock smiled. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment, Sir.’

‘Well, I’m nearly done. So shh, no more talking.’

He ran his hands up and down Sherlock’s arms feeling each bump and curve of the rope. Once again he checked circulation and then grabbed two more pieces of rope identical in length. He tied them both to the rope around Sherlock’s wrists and then ran the lengths to either side of Sherlock’s hips and joined them to the rope there.

Satisfied he hummed and jumped back up onto the bed. ‘You can speak and open your eyes now Pet.’

Sherlock obeyed and blinked once- before closing them again. ‘Bright,’ he grumbled.

John laughed. ‘One moment,’ he rolled off the other side of the bed, flicked the bedside lamp on and then turned the main light off before making himself comfy on the bed again.

‘How you feeling?’

‘Better, Sir. Not so busy.’

‘Good. Rope not too tight?’

‘No, Sir. I like it, reminds me of you.’

‘Well, I’m not going anywhere Pet.’

He opened the side drawer, found a straw and dropped it in Sherlock’s cup before holding it out for him. He slurped at it in a very undignified, un-Sherlock way.

‘You can go into ‘space if you want to, I’ll stay here. Let me know if you get sore or ache if not I’ll untie you in an hour.’

He nodded, slurping at his tea again.

 

10 minutes later found Sherlock floating in ‘space he felt like his whole body was buzzing, every time he moved sent sensations through his cock and he learned to keep still very quickly.

He loved subspace, but he always held off to make sure John was finished with him first, he liked to feel everything John did, the gently touches and caresses, he didn’t want to miss any because he liked to line them up in his Mind Palace and go over them all when John was at the surgery or away on some other mission.

 

After 20 minutes, John saw Sherlock sway, only slightly, but he was so far under he could topple over and wouldn’t even notice, let alone care. He kept a careful eye on the detective and after another few minutes he did it again, slightly more noticeable this time. He placed his book down on the unit and moved around to grab the rope that bound his arms and slowly encouraged him to his feet.

‘Onto the bed, Sherlock,’ he whispered softly in his ear.

The dreamy dazed form of the detective clambered up and lay face down, his head on the pillow, John laughed, he’d bring him back to the real world soon and he would have no idea how he got there. Sherlock’s features when he was confused were perfect, it happened so rarely that John treasured it. Secretly he believed Sherlock liked being confused and not know what was going on, but he wouldn’t tell him that.

He lay down next to him and made sure he had enough space to breathe clearly and settled his hand in his hair to reflect on the day.

 

Sherlock was distantly aware that he was no longer on his knees and there was a warm, familiar hand in his hair but he just continued to float like he was in a cloud, high above everything. Nothing mattered. Not the case, not Mycroft. Nothing, just John, him and John, nothing but John and him.


	11. Too Close to Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was the cause of Sherlock's tension?  
> A bit of a 'casey' chapter, but we all love those don't we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I really should be revising for my last exam but I've made my beta promise to ignore anything I send her at least until Monday!
> 
> thanks to sherlockian4evr and crazycatt71

The bedroom door upstairs shut with a click and if John hadn’t been hyper aware and therefore prepared for Sherlock to drop he might not have heard it. So Greg had come back here again tonight. He shifted slightly in thought and Sherlock moaned at his side.

He had long since untied him but Sherlock remained motionless beside him wrapped in the sheet he loved so much and had drifted off into some form of slumber. John thought back on the cause of his detective's distress for the past few hours. Their rather spontaneous social evening the other night had been cut reluctantly short.

 

Greg had long since given up trying to get pissed, in fact he had given up after one pint, Sherlock had drank half of his and had just swirled the rest around in the glass distantly, as they talked. John had nearly finished his second, but the old army doctor never seemed to be affected by alcohol. They’d tried it one night when Sherlock was away with Mycroft at their parents but John had drunk Greg under the table, literally. He had drank so much he was playing hide and seek with himself and John found him in the morning under the experiment free table in Baker Street. It had taken months for John to give up on the teasing, and they’d never tried it again.

Considering the day the three of them had had the evening was going remarkably well, Sherlock was a lot more quiet and subdued than normal, and he kept shifting slightly, not restlessly, more uncomfortably, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by either of the older men.

Well, the evening had gone remarkably well until a rather flushed looking Sargent Donavan charged in. After noticing her Inspectors location she rushed over and neither Greg nor John missed Sherlock’s involuntary flinch.

‘There’s been another, Sir.’

Sherlock glanced at John and just rested his head on the older man’s shoulder rather annoyed that their otherwise tranquil evening had been interrupted.

‘Another what?’ the DI questioned, disinterested. ‘Can’t you see I’m off duty?’

‘Suicide.’ 

‘And why are you telling me?’

‘It’s the twin sisters, Sir.’

Greg raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth curled up into a smile, the first genuine one all day.

‘Sherlock,’ He spun to his fellow sub. ‘How do you fancy a case?’

The younger man glanced at his Dom quickly who surprised him by sporting a relieved smile.

‘Can I Sir?’

‘’Course, pet.’

Donovan stared at Sherlock’s polite tone and looked remarkably like she was catching flies; Greg pointed this out with a laugh and her jaw slammed shut with an audible clamp.

‘Are you coming Sir?’ she asked.

‘Yes. We’ll catch you up in a cab. Address?’ 

As soon as Donovan had given the address, she disappeared. Sherlock watched her cautiously until Greg caught his attention. ‘You are unbelievable!’

Sherlock smiled slightly and rested his head on the doctor’s shoulder.

‘It’s a case, Babe, I thought you wanted one?’

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably and John searched for his hand, giving it a squeeze.

‘I do but…’

‘But?’ John encouraged.

‘Will you be there?’

‘Try and stop me.’ At the look on Sherlock’s face he added, ‘of course I’m going to be there you daft sod! C’mon, I want you happy and hyper.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s boring like this; there’s no challenge!’

Sherlock grinned like a Cheshire cat. It was the first proper grin John had seen in days and breathed in deeply before leaning forward and grabbing his sub's lips between his teeth. Sherlock let out a rather indignant squeak and Greg chuckled.

‘Can you two get a room?’

They both blushed and Sherlock dropped his hand to John’s leg and sprung to his feet.

The second Sherlock had slipped his coat on was like a new personality descended over him- or rather the old personality; the proper personality. The whole timid and meek submissive disappeared to be replaced by the upright detective with the confidence of a king.

John grinned at the DI as the detective hailed a cab and flipped his coat collar up with the air of a Dom. The doctor laughed, caught his sub's hand and leaned up to kiss him as the taxi pulled over.

They clambered into the back a heap of arms and legs, Greg managing to mutter the address to the driver before collapsing into the seat. Sherlock didn’t have as much luck, as the youngest of the trio tried to sit down John tugged at his hand that he still hadn’t released and pulled him onto his lap so Sherlock was sat sideways on the seat. John then continued to kiss him, nipping at his lip until he pulled up for breath.

Sherlock raised a mock disapproved eyebrow. ‘The Work, John.’

He couldn’t help but let out a rather childish giggle. ‘Of course, Pet, carry on.’

Sherlock didn’t move from his position on his lovers lap however but turned to face Greg. ‘Details?’

'Mother died nine months ago. Found by the Thames, believed to be suicide, then one of the sons was found in the same place.'

'When was this?'

'Four,’ Greg glanced at his phone, checking the date. ‘no, five days ago.'

'Why wasn't that investigated?'

'It was. The conclusion was suicide.'

'On what grounds? Was he in debt?'

'His mother had just died, it was on those grounds.'

'But that was nine months ago.'

Greg glanced at John; this sort of comment wasn’t uncommon even if it still managed to catch the pair of them off guard.

‘A bit not good Sherlock.’

Sherlock shook his head, ‘No no no, you misunderstand me, it was nine months ago. I’m not saying he would be over it. I’m saying, from experience, he’s left it too late to be related.’

‘Maybe he couldn’t cope?’ John offered.

‘Maybe,’ Sherlock agreed, surprising all three of them. ‘Did he have a family?’

‘A wife and two kids.’

‘His relationship was ok?’

‘According to the wife and kids they were happily married, both of them getting through his mother’s death together.’

‘What was his job? You can’t live in that sort of area without being on good money. Had something gone wrong?’

‘He was a banker.’

‘Debt?’

‘No, just a made a massive profit actually. Brought in four million in the last quarter…’

‘So now, just when time is starting to make his mother's loss that bit easier to deal with and he has hit the jackpot with two kids and a wife would he suddenly decide to commit suicide?’

John grinned widely. Not only had the detective already proved the police wrong, and discredited them by noticing the fault in their conclusions within five minutes, he had realized the importance of loved ones and the value in sentiment.

‘Ok, so if we had come to you a few days ago you wouldn’t have been bored, wouldn’t have got in trouble with John, your brother wouldn’t have flown off the handle and everything would be normal?’

Sherlock smiled, almost sadly. ‘Pretty much; yes. Although normal is a very abstract term.’

‘But what if it had turned out to be a suicide you would have been calling us idiots for not realizing.’

‘You should have realised it wasn’t. The people looking into this and looking into his history should have seen that financially he was doing well and apart from his mother's passing which he was dealing with according to his wife who you would have spoken to by this point there was nothing else going wrong. I’m assuming there was no note or anything of the sort thereof?’

Greg didn’t like how Sherlock was making his team out to be idiots but knew deep down he was right, they should have spotted this.

‘No…’

Sherlock glanced at his Dom with a small smile and a raised eyebrow. ‘Even I left a note.’

John raised his hand to cup Sherlock’s cheek. ‘Who said sentiment was a weakness?’

‘Mycroft; But I did agree.’

‘And why isn’t it?’

‘Because I used it to prove a point in a case.’

‘And it is bloody gorgeous on you. Please excuse me Greg,’ he added slyly before grabbing both sides of Sherlock’s surprised face and kissing him senseless once again.

Greg just burst out laughing. ‘Don’t mind me.’

When they reached the red tape around the crime scene Sherlock jumped out and raced off leaving John with the DI who was paying for the cab.

‘How does he do that?’ Greg asked the doctor nodding after the detective; his coat collar was once again up, his hands deep in his pockets as he paced off towards Donovan and the bodies.

‘Do what?’

‘Forget everything that’s gone wrong these last few days?’

John shrugged. ‘Beats me. It’s clever, but then so is he, excessively so. It does keep me on my guard.’

‘How do you mean?’ Greg asked, genuinely curious as they filled the gap between the tape and the detective.

John paused, more than aware how Sherlock’s hearing would have given a dog competition. ‘I worry about him more than I have any of my other subs.’

‘I think that’s more to do with the fact that you two are perfect together rather than anything else. I worry about Mycroft more than I have any other Dom that I’ve had.’

‘Even now?’

Greg laughed. ‘Sadly; yes.’

‘It’s just he’s always got this wall in the way. Like a defence system, I think it’s his Mind Palace as he calls it. It just makes knowing when he’s upset that bit harder because I don’t get much warning before it blows up in our faces.’

‘Such as the other day?’ Greg offered.

‘Yeah,’ John agreed quietly.

‘You know, I probably shouldn’t be saying this but,’ the DI cleared his throat. ‘It probably wasn’t as bad as Mycroft no doubt made out.’

John turned to his friend and frowned, his brow creased as he was deep in thought. Greg very nearly stepped back, expecting an explosion from the Dom, instead John smiled slightly, ‘I know. At least I do now. I had kind of figured that some things didn’t match up.’

Greg sighed in obvious relief. ‘You had me worried for a minute there mate.’

‘But I caned him Greg. He hates the cane. Literally despises it, even if I mention it he flinches. If what Mycroft did wasn’t enough… it was technically his fault I caned him too.’

‘I’m sorry, John. I should have said something.’

John shook his head, determined the sub wasn’t at fault. ‘No, there was nothing you could have done. D’you know that this isn’t the first time Mycroft’s been like this with Sherlock.’

John glanced over his shoulder where Sherlock had now crouched down with a pair gloves on and was searching pockets.

‘When you and Mycroft first got together, he didn’t talk to Sherlock for months. You’d expect Sherlock to like that, well he didn’t. He hated it. But he refused to tell me what had him in such a pissy. I thought it was the way our relationship was structured. So I changed it, the whole bloody thing, to what I have done with my previous subs and what I would do with any other sub.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I’m an army man, Greg, you work it out.’

‘Oh…’

‘Quite,’ John said bluntly. ‘He hated that more than he hated the fact Mycroft wasn’t talking to him, but he had both going on at once. To be honest, I hated it too. That arrangement worked with my previous subs because they were all army related in one way or another, and it was obviously a military kink in a way but with Sherlock it was different. He wants consistency- needs consistency. I thought he needed me to be stricter with him. I believed the reason he wasn’t telling me anything was that he didn’t see me as a Dom, just a friend or boyfriend. We were in a relationship as you know for months before I realised we couldn’t carry on. He knew too; deep down. There was something missing for both of us. But my reasoning behind his behaviour had nothing to do with our relationship… I couldn’t have been more wrong,’ he shook his head sadly at the thought at what might have happened.

‘You’ve sorted things now though, haven’t you?’

‘I guess. But that wall of his is back, Greg. He could be hiding anything.’ He refrained from mentioning what had happened to Sherlock in the shower, he guessed his detective wouldn’t be impressed with the chance of that being brought up in conversation. ‘Don’t tell him I told you this Greg or he’ll kill me and then I’ll have to kill you.’

‘You’ve just threatened a police officer,’ Greg laughed softly and placed his hand on the doctor’s shoulder. ‘Course I won’t. Thanks for telling me though.’

‘John? Sir?’ Sherlock called. 

‘Yeah?’ John’s attention was immediately on his sub. 

Sherlock was still knelt down beside the body looking into one of the eyes, with a frown over his features. 

‘What do you make of this?’ 

John made a quick examination of the body Sherlock was looking at before moving around so he was crouched down opposite him. Sherlock nodded at one of the eyes and John took his time checking both individually. 

‘Hypodermic needle,’ was his prognosis. 

‘That’s what I thought.’ He glanced up at Greg. ‘Your pathologists are muppets if they believe this is suicide.’

There was usually awkwardness in the air when Sherlock made a comment as blunt as that, but Greg and John both couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t even been that insulting; not really. 

‘I thought you had already discovered it wasn’t suicide?’ John pointed out. 

‘I had. I was just proving a point. Did the others have the same puncture mark?’ he asked Donovan. 

‘I don’t know.’ 

'You’ve read the case notes?’ 

‘Well yes.’ 

‘Did the others have that puncture mark? He repeated, almost impatiently. 

She stared at him like he was talking a different language. 

‘Donovan, go and get the notes. I’m assuming you actually remembered to bring them with you?’ The DI asked. 

‘Yes, Sir, they’re in the car.’ 

 

It had taken Sherlock two days to solve the case, at the start he had originally rated it a 6 but was glad just to be using his brain (even a small proportion of it as he so often reminded John). However, by the end of the first evening it was at a 7 and by the second it had leapt to a 9. 

After 12 hours solid on the case and working through the night John had held Sherlock to the rules and dragged him towards a cab, intent on taking him home to bed, but not before grabbing one confused DI also.

Greg hadn’t complained, John was clearly in Dom mode and he knew there was no point whatsoever in arguing. He had collapsed in the seat beside them, knackered. Sherlock knelt between Johns legs and shifted uncomfortably and Greg realised he was probably still in pain. They had ended up running quite a bit and Sherlock had even made the effort to not go tearing off without them, which alone was remarkable. He had paused though once or twice to wince. 

Once they had arrived at 221B John had opened the door, pushed Sherlock towards their bedroom with a quick, ‘get changed Pet,’ and told Greg he could do what he liked and his old room upstairs was free for as long as he wanted/needed it. 

Greg had smiled and thanked him, he couldn’t face going home; he couldn’t face Mycroft, not right now. John was more attentive than even he had given him credit for. Usually at a crime scene Greg would have to demand for Sherlock to go home so he could sleep, or usually end up on his knees in front of Mycroft, sucking him off. However John had made the decision for both the subs, there was no way Sherlock would have left if it wasn’t for the doctor and there was no way Greg would have that day either. He had also solved the problem of where he was going to stay, because John had obviously realised he didn’t want to go home. 

They’d all left Baker Street the following morning, yesterday morning, together and headed back to the crime scene before heading to the family house on Sherlock’s say so. They’d apprehended the suspect in the house but he had an escape route- out of the bathroom window, landing on the greenhouse roof and sliding off to the floor. Sherlock had initially run to the window, intent on jumping when had paused, thought what John would do to him and turned to charge down the stairs grabbing his Dom's hand as he passed and calling for the DI. 

They’d lost him after a mile but John had kissed Sherlock so hard and fast that he had to double over out of breath when he was released. 

When Sherlock had asked him what it was for, though he made it perfectly clear it was not a complaint, John had grabbed his hand with a big smile on his face and tugged him towards the nearest street where they could find a cab. 

It had surprised John that not once, but twice in 24 hours Sherlock hadn’t charged straight into trouble and not only ensuring he was not alone but he didn’t make the stupid mistake of launching himself from the second story window to more than likely go through the glass greenhouse roof.

 

John sighed and glanced at his sub curled up next to him so peaceful when he was asleep, after all the running about it turned out to be the oldest brother of the 3 victims. No-one else had died but it had hit Sherlock like a ton of bricks and was too close for home, even by Sherlock’s standards.


	12. Apologies are necessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft makes an important decision, and what happened to him and Greg?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my usual Betas as per!

‘Sherlock! Will you quit pacing about?’

‘No!’

John’s head tilted on one side as he regarded his restless sub and his attitude.

Sherlock’s bothersome pacing usually consisted of up and over the table and onto the sofa, where he would stay for a while, staring at the wall, before turning around and repeating his journey but in reverse; over and over and over again.

But today, today was different. Today Sherlock had hit his limit on the pacing. He was going from one window to the other, to the sofa, actually jumping on the table, through the kitchen – kicking any chair leg that got in his path – going through the door to the stairs and then back to the window to start again. Over and over and over again. It was driving John insane, and there was no outright reason for it.

He went around his route once more, this time however John was in the kitchen blocking his way through. ‘I said, quit the pacing!’

‘No!’ Sherlock pulled free of the hand on his shoulder and pushed passed to go through the kitchen door. But John was quick. He had his arm in his wrist and his face against the wall before the younger man could so much as take a step out of the room.

‘Have I got your attention now?’

John used his free hand to push his head into the wall, not hard but enough to get his full, undivided attention.

‘How about now?’

Sherlock shifted slightly but the slight tightening of John grip where his arm was twisted up his back, caused him to freeze.

‘Yes, sir,’ he whimpered.

‘Now will you quit the pacing?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good boy.’

‘Can you get off now? Argh!’

‘Being cheeky to your Dom when said Dom has you against the wall in less than a comfortable position is not a wise move, Sherlock.’

‘It is not an unwise move if that Dom would never hurt me in a million years.’

The doctor smiled, he was right… except punishment of course, but that’s more about the lesson than the physical pain.

‘I caned you last week Sherlock.’

‘Punishment; that’s different.’

‘I could cane you again.’

Sherlock stilled at once and John laughed.

‘What has got into you this morning?’

The detective attempted to pull free yet again.

Sighing, John put his toes in the back of his leg and applied pressure, Sherlock fell to his knees but not through choice.

‘One more word out of turn Sherlock and there will be trouble. Ah, no, think before you blurt out something you regret.’

He took a deep breath that hurt, due to the strain acting on his shoulder and across his chest. He ducked his head, at least he attempted to as much as the wall would allow.

‘Now, I think you are long overdue position time, don’t you think?’

John could see Sherlock think before he spoke but he was not relaxing. The restlessness, if anything was getting worse.

‘Answer me Sherlock!’

‘I guess.’

‘Answer me properly, Sherlock! Last warning!’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you had to repeat yourself, sir.’

‘And…’

‘I pushed you.’

‘And…’

This time he sighed, ‘I didn’t address you properly, Sir.’

‘Good. How long do you think that deserves?’

’10 minutes?’ Sherlock offered hopefully. He hated all corner time but 10 minutes wasn’t that bad.

‘Really Sherlock? Try again.’

’15 minutes?’

‘I was going to say 10 minutes for pushing me. 10 minutes for making me repeat myself, twice. And 5 minutes for not addressing me properly. However, you failed to do so at least 5 times in the last few minutes, lets’ make that 25 minutes. Add it up pet.’

’45 minutes. Sir.’

John smiled at the slight rebellion Sherlock still insisted on offering.

‘But you are forgetting. You said 10 minutes and 15 minutes. That makes 70.’ He let him go. ‘Corner; now. I trust you don’t need full position any more,’ he nodded to the cuffs on the table.

‘No, sir.’

‘Move then.’

Sherlock scrambled across the floor on his hands and knees rather than test his Dom’s patience further.

He could sense John’s intense glare as he straightened up on his knees and placed his hands behind his head.

’70 minutes, Sherlock.’

John knew that sort of time was excessive, that sort of punishment time was usually followed by something worse. Well, worse in John’s opinion, Sherlock seemed to hate corners. Especially the one he was currently knelt in. He’d leave him 20 minutes or so and if he didn’t move he’d rethink the rest of the times productivity. Sherlock would have no idea how long had passed; every second to John was an hour for the detective in the corner without his Dom’s attention.

 

It was a total of 7 minutes before Sherlock started fidgeting; a lot less than usual. John ignored the first twiddling of his fingers, he ignored the tapping of his toes against the floorboards, but when Sherlock sat back on his heels he moved the few paces to the corner and grasped his collar tightly.

‘Something is seriously not right with you today.’ He twirled his hand into his dark curls and tugged his head back so his sub was forced to meet his unimpressed eye.

Immediately John knew he was right, a quick glance into the dark eyes in front of him told the doctor that the sub wasn’t being deliberately rude and fidgety. He was distracted by something and if he didn’t know his sub so well he would have punished him rather than the correct plan of action for Sherlock; ‘undistract’ him.

‘5 more minutes,’ he decided, tone low. Enough time for him to sort some stuff out and enough time to not let Sherlock think he had won.

 

‘Come over here pet,’ John ordered.

Slowly the detective turned around looking rather meek and confused.

‘C’mon,’ the doctor encouraged, he needed to let Sherlock know he wasn’t angry at his subs confusion.

Sherlock slowly crawled over until he was knelt in front of his Dom, head down.

‘Take your shirt of and lean over the back of the chair pet,’ he directed.

John sighed in relief and a smile graced his lips as the detective offered no forms of rebellion and complied slipping out of his shirt and folding it neatly before placing himself in the familiar position over the back rest. He had already clocked the riding crop.

‘5 Sherlock, you will count but this is not punishment.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good boy.’ He slowly brushed the crop over his pale white shoulders and watched as he shivered in anticipation.

He dropped the crop once between the contours of his shoulder blades, the detective flinched breathing deeply, and revering the mark he knew it would have left. ‘One,’ he breathed. ‘One, sir.’

‘Good boy,’ John said again, his voice full of approval.

He brought the crop down once more. Sherlock breathed out. ‘Two, sir.’

John wandered around to the front of the younger man and knelt on the chair, cupping his subs face and smoothing it softly with his thumb. ‘Feeling better yet?’

He nodded distantly; he was still miles away.

The doctor ran the edge of the crop under his chin as Sherlock’s eyes dropped again to the back rest.

John took his time with the last 3 strikes placing them randomly over his upper back around his shoulders. Sherlock counted each one dutifully and thanked him after the fifth one but there was still something not right.

The detectives back was littered in red splotches, Sherlock had revealed in the past how much he liked the feeling of the crop but only if John swung it, he enjoyed the feeling that lingered just beneath his skin for days after.

‘You can move,’ John offered. ‘I’ll stick the kettle on.’

John saw him glance at his shirt and nodded, he smiled gratefully and slipped into, nestling his shoulders into the material to feel the marks more pronouncedly.

 

As John flicked the kettle on there was a polite knock at the door.

‘You going to get that Sherlock, it’s probably Greg.’

‘Greg has a key.’

The doctor sighed. ‘Go and answer the door pet it’s not a hard task to master.’

Sherlock smirked slightly, making sure his Dom didn’t see, before heading to the door. He flicked the door off the latch but that was the extent of his door opening skills. He returned to pacing, this time in a straight line.

Spotting him from the kitchen door, John sighed. If you want a job done…

‘Greg; and Mycroft.’ John’s tone changed at the sight of the older Holmes.

It was only the fact that Mycroft looked more submissive than Greg at that moment that John did not slam the door in his face. His head was bowed low and the usual swinging movements with his umbrella were absent.

‘Hiya John.’ Greg smiled warmly at the other man. ‘Is Sherlock about?’

‘Somewhere. He’s in a rather restless mood this morning.’

He turned, rather stiffly and showed them into the sitting room. They found Sherlock knelt next to John’s chair. The doctor went to stand by him. ‘You really are impossible,’ he whispered in his ear.

On sight of his brother Sherlock tensed. Mycroft sighed, he really had scared him, Greg had said so but he had not realised quite how badly.

‘Can you make them go?’ Sherlock whispered quietly but Mycroft’s hearing picked it up.

‘I’ve come to apologise.’

John glanced at Greg who hadn’t knelt, much to Mycroft’s annoyance. He stood a bit taller, making a point, when Mycroft looked his way.

The older Holmes stepped forward but John blocked the path between him and the kneeling Sherlock.

‘No, he doesn’t want you here.’

‘John…’

‘Don’t ‘John’ me Mycroft Holmes! What you did was out of order. If I had done to Sherlock what you had done to him and you had found out what would you have done?’

‘Sent Anthea for you.’

‘Quite,’ John snarled, his hand reaching back for the detectives head. Sherlock moved forward and rested his hand on John’s foot to remind him he was ok. ‘And if I had come near him or Baker Street again? Assuming you had let me go.’

Mycroft looked away. 

‘Exactly.’

Mycroft’s head was lower than Sherlock’s ever got, he sought the younger man’s eye. ‘I am sorry, little brother.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Sherlock murmured as quietly as he could, he didn’t want Mycroft here. There was only one Dom he would ever answer to, and it wasn’t Mycroft.

‘Mycroft,’ his brother corrected.

Sherlock’s head snapped up. He glanced at his Dom before his brother. John nodded warily.

‘I’m your brother, not your Dom; John is, and he is more than worthy of that title, more worthy than I.’

Greg’s hand reached forward of its own accord and brushed Mycroft’s, the government official swallowed tightly.

John dropped his hand on the kneeling man’s head.

‘You can stand up, Sherlock.’

He shook his head, his gaze lowering back to the floor. John tilted his head, but it wasn’t in surprise, Sherlock often felt protected on his knees.

But John was wrong.

Sherlock suddenly sprang to his feet and grabbed Mycroft in a bone crushing hug. ‘I’m sorry, Myc. I’m really sorry.’

Caught momentarily off guard at the sudden show of emotion; Mycroft just stood there and before he realised what he had done he’d dropped his umbrella and was hugging his younger brother back.

‘No, it’s I who’s sorry, little one.’

Neither of the other men commented on the surprising nick name

Mycroft released Sherlock and cupped his cheek in a shaking hand.

‘I was wrong. Gregory made me realise how wrong I was. Especially with… past events.’

‘It’s ok, John fixed that.’

Mycroft shot an appreciative glance at his little brother’s Dom. He and the DI had moved over to the sofa aware that Mycroft didn’t mean Sherlock any further harm and to give them a bit of time alone, if not out of sight.

‘He cares about you Sherlock.’

‘I knew that. It was you who underestimated him.’

The older brother sighed. ‘You’re right. I did. It won’t happen again.’

‘John cares for me, like you do for Greg.’

‘Yeah I know, I’m glad he makes you happy. It’s about time someone did.’

‘I’ve been with him for 2 years Mycroft.’

‘I know and it’s about time I trusted and protected you. From people who pose a threat and mean it. As for John, his side of the bills will be covered from now on and your account extended to include anything the doctor needs full time.’

‘Thank you brother-mine. I just wish you could have realised sooner.’

‘Me too little brother.’ He rested his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. ‘Do you fancy joining us for lunch, I’ve persuaded Greg to dine with me, even if it is one last time.’ Mycroft’s voice was full of a deep, raw emotion Sherlock had never seen in him before. He couldn’t work out, if he was more upset at what he had done or that it had destroyed what he had with Greg. Sherlock hadn’t realised his friendship with his fellow sub meant so much to the DI, he felt a gush of warm appreciation flow through his stomach, but then caught sight of his brother so sad and lost; he looked like when he had returned from his first week at private school, so small and lost and… innocent. He glanced over at Greg who was deep in conversation with John; also looking lost, he had obviously ended the contract but was intensely affected by it and what he felt like he had to do.

Sherlock knew what he needed to do to fix this.

He sought out John’s gaze and found his Dom already watching him, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smile. There was a look on his face that recently he hadn’t seen nearly enough of; pride.

‘Sir, Can we go to lunch with Mycroft and Greg?’

John glanced at the man sat opposite him in confusion.

‘I promised once more.’ He smiled weakly. ‘As long as it was that new posh place by the club.’

The doctor nodded. ‘Beats cooking.’ The detective was surprised to see him glance with concern towards Mycroft.

‘Everything sorted?’ John asked joining the brothers.

Sherlock glanced at his Dom and nodding once, knelt at his feet. Mycroft smiled sadly when Greg wandered over but didn’t do the same.

Deciding on the spot, the kneeling man peered up. ‘Greg.’ The DI looked down at him questioningly. Sherlock nodded once, keeping his head low so he couldn’t see Mycroft. There was antagonizing long silence before Greg was knelt opposite the younger man his hand on Mycroft’s foot.

Mycroft sighed and leant down to kiss his sub slowly.

If the three of them didn’t know any better they would say Mycroft was about to cry, but of course that was impossible; he was a Holmes.

With a lump in his throat the government official looked to John, a silent quest for permission in his gaze. John nodded once and Mycroft moved forward, wrapping his arms around his little brother and running his hand through his dark curls, hugging him for the second time in 10 minutes.

‘It’s alright Myc,’ Sherlock said softly, the all too powerful Holmes was definitely in tears now. ‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’

‘You are twice the man I thought you were, Sherlock.’ He made sure only Sherlock heard him and then stood up taking a deep breath and running his hand over his face to mask the sudden show of emotion once more. ‘Thank you brother-mine.’

 

‘You knew they were coming, didn’t you?’ John asked a few hours later. ‘That’s why you were a complete restless arse all morning.’

Sherlock nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘How?’

‘I’ve had days to think about it. Mycroft’s actions were completely out character, even if what he said did ring true. He definitely would not have wanted to lose Greg over it, and as Greg did not stay here like he has for the previous 4 evenings meant he’d gone back to my brother. Plus I apologized last week, proving it wasn’t below me, he would want to do the same if only to prove a point. My suspicions were only confirmed at the sound of two car doors opening and closing outside, the breeze that came in was too strong to only allow one person through the door and there were two sets of steps on the stairs…’

‘You know you are too clever for your own good.’

‘Says who?’

John reached up from his spot in his arm chair and tugged him down. ‘Me.’

Sherlock spun his legs around so he was sat sideways over his Dom and rested his head in the crook of his neck.

‘Sherlock, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, I’ve just kept forgetting to.’

‘What?’ he murmured.

Sherlock’s warm breath against his ear made John shiver.

‘Last week when you were in the bath… how come I didn’t know about that little kink of yours?’

‘You had no reason to.’

John paused, how would he answer the question he knew was coming if he continued digging for information? He could say he’d told Greg what had happened last year between them. Maybe he had used that to get Mycroft to apologize.

‘I did though, last year when… when Greg got with your brother, what happened, y’know, afterwards.’

‘I thought we agreed not to talk about it.’

John nodded. ‘We did but how come I didn’t know? Did you actually enjoy it?’

‘What? No!’ he made to move from the chair but john wrapped his arms around his wriggling detective. ‘I hated it!’ Sherlock continued. ‘I thought you knew that, how can you say-’

‘Shh, I’m not saying you did. I just wonder how you have a military kink but not enjoy that…’

‘Do we need to discuss it?’

‘Give me an answer and I won’t bring it up again. Promise.’

The detective sighed. ‘I didn’t enjoy it. I hated it. You were mad with me all the time. It felt like whatever I did wasn’t good enough, all I wanted was to please you, and nothing I did worked.’ Sherlock’s breath hitched before he continued. ‘I suppose since then and the way things returned to normal, I saw you as much stronger Dom than I had previously. I knew you were good because you could handle me and no one ever could, but I suppose seeing that extra dominance I didn’t realise you had; it may have aroused me slightly.’

John laughed. ‘So it was looking back on it that made you realised you liked me bossing you about more.’

‘I don’t know what it was, but let’s get one thing clear, Captain. I hated that little experiment of yours.’

‘I wouldn’t think otherwise.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many of you, including myself, was mad at Mycroft.  
> Did Mycroft get what he deserved?


	13. More Interesting Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally a new case for Sherlock to get his teeth stuck into... oh and there's Mary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a slight mention of rape in this chapter. It's got nothing to do with our lovely boys though- all four of them!
> 
> thanks again to the usual betas Sherlockian4evr and crazycatt71

3 days later it was like nothing had changed. Everything was perfect; Mycroft had phoned already and hadn’t received sarcasm from Sherlock but a light, friendly tone, they’d met up with Greg again and they’d even gone downstairs to have lunch with Mrs. Hudson when she complained she hardly saw them anymore and they only leave 10 feet away. Sherlock even had another case. Everything was back on track.

 

‘You’re going out,’ Sherlock pointed out from the kitchen, without turning around to actually see John.

The doctor was clattering around the front room, clearly looking for something. His keys, Sherlock surmised. He still hadn’t told him that he randomly hid them somewhere in the flat when he was bored which was practically all the time.

‘I’m meeting Mary Sherlock. Do you want to come?’

Sherlock was shirtless and elbow deep in some disgusting gunge at the kitchen sink. At least he had put it in the sink rather than the bath or sofa.

‘I um… would, Sir, but well you’ve smelt what I have my hands in.’

John took one pace into the room and immediately covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve. ‘Pet, what is that?’

‘That is exactly what I am trying to find out.’

The doctor shook his head at the vile stuff his boyfriend seemed fascinated with and retreated back to the hallway to be able to breathe deep fresh breaths. ‘I’ll give you 10 minutes to get washed up and if that is still there when I get home from work tomorrow you better have me one of those gas masks you seem to be parading.’

Sherlock appeared at the door, his arms held away from him. He was studying himself in amusement and confusion; his brow furrowed. ‘Go.’ John pointed to the bathroom. ‘I’ll let Mary know. Why am I always late when you’re involved, eh?’

‘She likes it when you’re late.’

‘No she doesn’t.’

‘She does.’

The Dom took a step back as Sherlock advanced forward. ‘I’m telling you right now, Boy, if you do not get rid of that smell you are not coming.’

Sherlock laughed through the bedroom door as John remained in the hall.

‘You wouldn’t leave me here John.’

‘And why wouldn’t I?’

‘Because then Mary would be mad that you’re late.’

The doctor growled. ‘Sherlock Holmes!’

John's head collided with the wall to the sound of his sub’s laughter.

‘If I were you, Sir, I would look for your keys.’

‘No need.’

‘Why not? Have you found them?’

‘No, but if you’re coming with me, we’ll use yours.’

 

‘And how is my favourite sub today?’ Mary asked as the duo climbed out of the cab. Well, Sherlock more tripped out than climbed when John put his palm between his shoulder blades and pushed.

Mary was leant back against the wall and couldn’t help but laugh at the look of shock on Sherlock’s face as he regained his balance.

Seeing her smiling at him nearly ending up flat on the pavement, he scooped her up into a hug and spun her around. She squeaked and the sub snorted. John was watching his boyfriend’s interactions with the other Dom and realised actually how far he had come; he would never show emotion like that and never in public a few years ago. He was brought out of his reflections when the deep baritone of Sherlock’s voice was back next to him.

‘John is mad at me.’ He pouted.

‘What have you done?’

John laughed. That was one fantastic thing about Mary, she never took sides, they mucked around and wound each other up but she remained neutral and was as close to Sherlock as she was to himself. He had never expected that as he had known her for quite a bit longer, but he was glad; very much so.

‘He left something vile in the kitchen sink.’

‘What did you leave in the kitchen sink Sherlock?’

‘He doesn’t know, apparently.’

‘I was trying to work it out,’ the detective mumbled, impetuously.

‘Is it for a case?’

‘He hasn’t got a case at the moment, the last one ended yesterday.’

‘Triple murder,’ Sherlock said was a highly pleased glint in his eye. ‘Best in ages.’

‘There was that suicide case last week,’ John pointed out.

‘Exactly. Ages.’

Mary stepped between them and grasped a hand each pulling them both towards the restaurant up the street.

‘So where did you get this gunge that you have left all over the flat Sherlock?’

‘It’s not all over the flat, just the sink.’

John managed to hide his smirk until he looked at Mary then he burst out laughing.

‘It’s not fair, you two are ganging up on me.’

‘We’re not ganging up on you, Pet, you’re just so easy to wind up.’

‘You’re both Doms; _that_ is ganging up on me.’

‘It wouldn’t make any difference, Sherlock. I would still tease you.’

‘Well let’s not talk about the gunge again, we are about to eat.’

 

‘7.30?’ the posh, stuck up waiter asked. He looked down at Sherlock, clearly recognizing him as a sub.

John pulled his detective back with a hand on his shoulder before he got into trouble or caused an argument he would no doubt start and no doubt finish.

Mary stepped in, she couldn’t tell if John was going to punch him or argue about the table time, ‘that’s the one.’

‘Follow me,’ the waiter said with a warning glare at the detective over John’s shoulder. The man turned and marched off at a pace even Sherlock would struggle to keep.

‘You said the table was booked for 7,’ John hissed, grabbing Sherlock’s hand, keeping him close while they followed through the tables.

‘You know what this place is like if you are late they give your table up.’

‘What about 3 spaces? You booked a table for 2.’

‘She didn’t, Sir.’

‘How would you know?’

‘Well for a start I told you she liked it when we were late and secondly, that stuck up moron is pointing at a table that is clearly laid for 3 people.’

Mary grinned and shooed the waiter away.

Sherlock, ever the gentlemen pulled out Mary’s chair. John raised an eyebrow making the detective sigh and pull his out too.

‘Thanks, Pet.’ He turned on his fellow Dom, ‘so you knew he was coming and you knew we’d be late?’

‘What can I say? I’m just too amazing for him to resist.’

‘Or it’s just the chance to put expensive meals on his brother’s card.’

‘He’s always going on about how he likes to look out for me… protect me,’ Sherlock frowned at the thought. ‘Well this is him protecting my stomach.’

John chuckled as Mary’s head tilted on one side. ‘Don’t ask?’

 

‘Mary, you alright?’ Sherlock looked up from his plate; he had long since finished and had been pushing around a lone pea for 10 minutes.

‘I- there was a reason I wanted to see both of you.’

‘Even though you didn’t know he was coming.’

‘John, you come as one, everyone knows that.’

Sherlock smiled and reached out for his Dom’s hand, ‘even my brother is willing to admit that now.’

‘There’s a friend of mine that was… well… that was’ she paused and lowered her voice, ‘raped.’

Sherlock was immediately alert and looked excitingly intrigued. John stamped on his foot under the table causing the detective to hiss through clenched teeth. Mary was more than aware what Sherlock was like but still wasn’t surprised to see John attempting to gain control of the child-like detective. It was usually quite funny for John to attempt something they both knew was pointless.

John grabbed a passing waiter and asked for the bill. ‘Do you want to come back to ours?’

 

‘He called himself C.’

‘C? As in the letter?’

Sherlock was pacing once more, this time in the gap between the coffee table and the sofa. Mary had stolen his arm chair like she always did and John had forgone his own armchair to sit on the sofa. ‘What are you thinking Sherlock?’ Mary asked. ‘I know that face.’

Sherlock froze in front of Mary. ‘Thinking? Me? Never.’ His pacing continued but twice as quickly.

‘Pet!’ John chastised, grabbing his thin wrist as he passed and yanking down. Sherlock fell in an unceremonious heap on the doctor’s lap and Mary giggled.

‘That told you!’

Sherlock stuck his tongue out and John smacked him on the back of the head.

‘Hey!’ he protested, but there was no venom in it.

‘You are such a child.’

‘Carry on from where you were Mary, before my Dom rudely interrupted us.’

Mary sniggered again and smirked as John grabbed Sherlock’s curls and tugged him down to kiss him.

‘She came to me a few days ago but didn’t want to go to the police.’

‘Well at least she has good sense.’

‘Good sense?’

‘Well, when does Scotland Yard ever know what they are doing?’

With a smile she continued. ‘She was pretty cut up about it obviously, but I know it’s going to sound odd, that’s why I came to you, she said she was intrigued.’

‘About what?’ It didn’t seem to faze Sherlock at all that a woman who was recently sexually assaulted would seem intrigued by her attacker.

‘About the routine, he had a ritual and she seemed to believe he had done it before; a lot.’

‘So a serial rapist.’ Sherlock leant forward and steepled his fingers in front of him. ‘Now this is starting to get interesting.’


	14. Got him!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Mary had Sherlock intrigued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas Sherlockian4evr and crazycatt71

‘Sherlock, are you sure he came this way?’

Greg was struggling to keep up with the younger man. 

‘No. But I know where his final destination is.’

‘This is not a film!’

Sherlock laughed. ‘Come on, old man, keep up!’ He picked up his pace and darted through an alleyway, his Mind Palace providing him with the quickest, but not necessarily the easiest route.

‘I thought coppers were supposed to be fit Detective Inspector?’

‘I’m very fit thank you! I just don’t know where you get your energy from!’

‘John makes me eat on cases, I thought you knew that.’

It was Greg’s turn to laugh, but it was more of a pant as he jumped over a back street puddle.

‘You’re lucky to have him. He is absolutely insane putting up with you every day’ the DI teased.

Sherlock didn’t seem offended. ‘I know, I’ve told him that myself; numerous times.’

‘Shouldn’t he be here?’

‘He’ll meet us at the pub with Donovan; well that’s what he said.’

Sherlock froze at the end of the street they’d just run down.

‘Did they find anything?’

‘Apparently, the ex wasn’t very helpful.’

Sherlock chuckled, crossed the road and sped off towards another alleyway. He reached up as a fire escape ladder appeared out of nowhere and he disappeared upwards.

Between losing him and following, Greg grabbed the bottom rung before it swung up out of reach. He didn’t have time to chastise the man for using roofs as the detective disappeared over the top. 

‘He didn’t look very helpful to be honest,’ Sherlock said when the other sub caught him up once more.

‘Is that the pub?’ Greg asked.

Sherlock nodded and looked for a way down.

When they reached the bottom the detective checked his phone. ‘John’s almost here. 10 minutes.’

‘Good.’ But before the DI could do anything else, including protest, Sherlock had charged into the pub to end up face to face with the man they had been tailing. 

‘Oops.’ Sherlock mumbled.

Reflecting on the size of him, Greg wondered how he had managed to give half of Scotland Yard the slip.

The big beefy man spun around and growled. He held a gun very similar to John’s sig. That answered one question for Sherlock, how did he make all of his victims comply without a sound?

Sherlock looked from the gun to the muppet holding it and then glanced at the DI. He could tell what the older man was doing when his hand slid into his pocket.

Greg had, since his first day as a DS, always had SO19 on speed dial for events such as this; easily activated by a few silent thuds of his thumb on the right buttons.

It wasn’t long until Sherlock and the burly man were in a heated discussion about how stupid the bigger man was to think he could hide in an empty pub and get away with serial rape, especially after leaving such a mess at his last scene of crime.

Then the mad man made the biggest mistake of his life. His gun arm dropped lazily as he went on to slag off the shorter man who had visited the police station with the detective. A man that neither Sherlock nor Greg would stand by to hear disrespected by anyone, let alone some pathetic oath; John.

In a matter of seconds Sherlock’s rage had exploded over the top and he had flown. Greg didn’t have a chance to even think about preventing Sherlock from his assault as his leg went up and kicked the gun out of the man’s hand. He yelled in pain as his wrist clicked and the gun flew across the room bouncing off a table. The clicking of the bigger man’s wrist wasn’t enough. Sherlock cannoned into him, knocking them both flying across the room with obscene strength. His landing was less aggressive than the man he had attacked; however, he lay panting beneath him; winded.

Sherlock didn’t give him the chance to catch his breath as he let blow after blow reign down on the rapist. He distantly felt something in his wrist but he was so energized by adrenaline he ignored it.

It all happened so fast, it was no more than a matter of seconds before Greg had some resemblance of control; he pushed his arms under Sherlock’s shoulders and pulled him back off the other man who was on the edge of consciousness. ‘Sherlock! Sherlock come on, calm down. Sherlock! He’s nearly out cold!’

‘Good! The fucking bastard!’

 

John charged in hearing Sherlock shouted and panicked, the door slammed back into the wall causing him to jump out of its way. He noticed one detective struggling in a fitful rage in the arms of his favorite DI and one bloodied rapist on the floor. He came to the conclusion that if any damage had been done to his detective it was not life threatening, but whatever happened next might be. Greg had his arms looped under the youngest man shoulders keeping his arms back and out of the way as he thrashed relentlessly, shouting every insulting word under the sun at the just-conscious man on the floor.

‘Let him go, Greg,’ John ordered.

Not really trusting the detectives temper, but trusting John’s he released Sherlock slowly, remaining prepared.

‘Kneel Sherlock!’ John barked immediately. ‘Now!’ Sherlock froze where the DI had released him and dropped to his knees without hesitation. 

John rushed to his sub and crouched down in front of him. He was breathing heavily, his whole upper body shaking. John grabbed his wrist and had a quick look where he had been holding it oddly, almost protecting it. His knuckles were bloodied and the skin broken, his middle and index finger were swollen. He needed to do a more thorough check but now, where they were was not the place.

He stood up without a word to his sub whose eyes were facing the floor and not recognizing John, only his authority. He pushed a grounding hand into his sub's hair turning to Greg who had checked the prone man to see if he was breathing ok. 

Greg hated the fact that he had to help this psychopath even though it was part of his job to make sure he was to be granted a fair trial, despite Sherlock never being wrong about the criminals they tracked and caught. He couldn’t have him die on him, the main reason being Sherlock would be at fault. 6 rapes that man- monster, had committed on his way to commit a seventh and he was decked by a scrawny detective after mentioning one man, albeit not very nicely mentioning that one man.

Greg glanced over to the kneeling sub as SO19 charged in, realizing there wasn’t really a threat any longer they lowered their rifles, one officer retrieved the discarded weapon and two others hand cuffing the angry man that was Collins.

‘What happened?’ John demanded as SO19 brushed passed them causing Sherlock to tense up, if it wasn’t for his hand John didn’t doubt that Sherlock would have started round 2.

‘They were at each other’s throats, verbally at least. And then Collins said some rather unpleasant things. It was like a switch. I’ve never seen him move so fast. He was on the floor less than a second after Collins had opened his mouth. It took me nearly 5 minutes to get a good enough grip on him to stop him from pounding him into the carpet. Then you know the rest. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t have known you were on your way.’

‘Are you alright?’ the doctor asked, seeing that it wasn’t just his sub in a mess.

‘Besides angry? Yeah.’

‘Why angry?’

‘I had to stop him.’

John chuckled once. ‘Is it ok if I take this one home?’ Sherlock hadn’t moved from where he was knelt and he wasn’t any less tense now than he had been.

‘Yeah, I’ll need to pull him in tomorrow though.’

‘Of course. I couldn’t by any chance borrow your handcuffs could I?’

Greg glanced down at the doctor’s sub; his fists were so white they looked like ice about to shatter. Given his state of mind and obvious adrenaline rush Sherlock probably couldn’t feel the damage to his wrist and knuckles.

‘Sure.’ He handed them over and headed to the door. ‘Talking of handcuffs, now you two have your own rather extensive set, any chance I could have the rest of my issue ones back?’

He disappeared and John quickly thumbed off a message to Mycroft to let him know his sub may be in need of some help and a bit of subspace tonight.

 

John had loosely clasped the cuffs around Sherlock’s wrists, ensuring his suit was between skin and metal as he was aware that the detective might have done more damage than what was obvious at a quick glance. They were tight enough to remind the detective they were there and why they were but if Sherlock tugged hard enough he could probably force them open. It wasn’t like he was in any sort of state to break out of them, but John needed something to ground him physically beside his hand and 15 miles away from home he was not that well equipped. He should start carrying around Sherlock’s leash if he was going to wear his collar all the time now but somehow he didn’t think Sherlock was ready for that just yet. It had taken him 2 years to wear his collar in public; was it going to be another 2 before he could leash him in public too?

He had made him kneel in the cab home, something he never did. Sherlock was distant, not like he would be in subspace, he seemed almost absent and even the cuffs as well as the Dom’s hand continually running through his curls wasn’t enough to get rid of the tenseness that seemed to descend around the sub like a cloud in a storm. John supposed it was a bit like a storm and his gorgeous detective was the eye of it.

 

‘Kneel by my chair, Pet.’

Not even acknowledging that his Dom had spoken Sherlock moved over to the chair. Even cuffed he usually dropped to his knees with such grace, but now he just dropped himself with an audible thud John worried that little bit more.

He stuck the kettle on and found a straw for his pet, and then while he waited he stood at the doorway watching his detective. He knelt hunched over his hands not clenched up like they would normally be. Deciding to check on his fingers again now rather than in a while he routed through the freezer in search of ice knowing it would be very useful. There wasn’t any in sight and John growled, Sherlock had almost definitely used it in an experiment. ‘I will be 2 minutes, Pet, I’m going to see Mrs. Hudson quickly.'

Sherlock didn’t respond, his shoulders were even more rounded than they had been a moment ago and he appeared lost in thought, but nowhere near his Mind Palace. If John didn’t know any better he would say Sherlock was expecting punishment. 

The doctor raced down the stairs determined not to leave Sherlock alone longer than strictly necessary. He knocked on the door to 221A hoping their landlady was in.

‘John? Or is it Sherlock?’

John poked his head in; she was more than likely sat drinking tea at her table. He was right, she was sat cradling a cup.

‘Everything alright dear?’

‘Not really, Mrs. H. Sherlock’s mucked his fingers up and probably his wrist too. You haven’t got any ice have you?’

‘Ice?’ She stood and turned to own freezer, finding the tray full she handed it over. ‘Make sure I get the tray back, he put acid in the last one.’

John laughed softly.

‘Is he alright?’

‘Apart from a broken finger, no, but he will be.’

Mrs. Hudson shook her head, knowing exactly what the man they both adored was like and that he probably hadn’t even realized he’d hurt himself.

‘At least he’s got you dear.’

‘Yeah. Thanks Mrs. H. I better go back upstairs; God knows what carnage he’s caused.’


	15. Recriminations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by the usual!

He hadn’t in fact moved, even when the door open and John stepped in he didn’t look up but he didn’t flinch or act surprised either.

The Dom quickly set two mugs of tea on the table and then moved to uncuff Sherlock. 

Sherlock’s hands fell forward but they went no further, it was like he had no control over them.

‘I could have killed him John,’ he said quietly. ‘I would have killed him.’

He dropped his head again and John slid off the chair to kneel in front of him. He gathered him up in his arms and held him tight. The fact that Sherlock had side-tracked the usual honorific spoke volumes; he was genuinely terrified and it appeared it was of himself.

‘What have you done to me John?’

Worried, the doctor pulled back. ‘What do you mean?’ he took the detectives mangled hand in his and applied the ice.

‘There was a time I didn’t care.’ He hissed when the ice made contact with his bruised flesh.

John leant forward again making sure to hold the ice in the correct place. He blew in his ear and then kissed the side of his head; his other hand came up and cupped his cheek.

‘You know, there was a time I didn’t care too.’

Sherlock stared at him as if he was the most insane man on the planet.

‘It’s true. From the moment I got shot in Afghanistan I wondered what it was all for. What were we fighting for? Units go out, they fight, they get blown up and then they end up in the same position as me if not worse. And then it happens again and again and again and nobody learns. The day I met you and I said chasing that cab half way across London was the most insane thing I had ever done what was your comeback?’

‘You invaded Afghanistan.’ He smiled slightly at the memory.

‘I said it wasn’t just me. I wasn’t wrong but I wasn’t entirely right either. If every individual person looked at what they were fighting for and took a step back to look at the consequences no one would be fighting the first place. That moron today didn’t step back and see what he was doing to all those girls, the same way he didn’t step back and see what consequences there would be for winding you up. That’s what happened today, you fought for what matters, to you. I should be angry because you lost your temper but what would that tell you? Sticking up for me is wrong? It’s not, just like I would do the same for you or Greg or even Mycroft.’

‘I would do it again. I know I would; even if it was for Mycroft.’ 

‘Exactly, protecting what is right isn’t always a bad thing. In fact it very rarely is, if anything Sherlock I am proud of you.’ He moved his hand around behind his neck and brought him forward to his chest where he sobbed quietly, clearly in shock.

‘I could have gone too far,’ Sherlock said after a moment.

‘But you didn’t.’

‘But I could have, and I would have if it wasn’t for Greg. He had hold of me for ages before you turned up.’

‘Well you can buy him a pint later. Let’s see to you first.’

He still had his coat on as well as his scarf. John instructed him to remove both and he winced as fabric ran over his wrist.

‘Hold that ice back on there. You’re going to need more for that though than my first aid kit is upstairs. Wait there.’

 

‘Please John!’

‘Sherlock…’

‘Sir. Please.’

It was a few hours later, John had strapped up his pet but he still was in quite a bit of pain and was now sat on Johns lap, his head in the crook of his Dom’s neck.

‘No Sherlock.’

‘You said to me if I ever wanted attention or felt the need to have consequences over something to tell you and not kick off to get what I want.’

‘I did.’ John nodded slowly.

‘You punish me severely for antagonizing you and it’s always worse than it could have been. Well now I’m asking you rather than kicking off and you still won’t give me what I want. What I need.’

‘It’s not that I won’t, I just don’t think you deserve it. And the cane is a bit extreme; I don’t feel confident caning you whilst your wrist is buggared.’ John took a deep breath; whichever way he looked at it, his sub was right. He needed to feel some form of absolution. It was the way of many subs, and many years ago John wouldn’t have believed Sherlock was capable of it. The guilt tended to hang around the air like a bad smell. Punishment tended to be the air freshener.

Making a decision, John sighed. ‘Go to the bedroom. Remove your trousers and lay face down on the bed, hands out to the side. Do not do anything to hurt that wrist further, if you do I will punish you properly and you will not like it.’

 

Finding his sub how he knew he would; he knew what he had to do. He picked the lightest cane in their collection. ‘5 strokes Sherlock and you’ll count each one.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Good Pet.’

John intended on doing it as fast as possible and as the first stoke landed, he flinched more than Sherlock did. 

The words ‘One, Sir. Thank you, Sir.’ brought John out of his dark thoughts.

‘Good boy.’ He brought the cane down twice more, parallel to the previous. 

Once Sherlock had counted, John landed the next two as quickly as possible. It must have been the quickest punishment between the two of them ever. Sherlock glanced over his shoulder when he counted off the 5th stroke as if expecting more. 

John was looking madder now than he had when they’d started. Sherlock realized what had happened and why. ‘I’m sorry, Sir,’ he said quietly. 

‘Oh, Pet,’ Johns face relaxed at the look of fear now on the detective's face. Fear was supposed to be felt before the punishment not after. He dropped the cane and ran his hands over the marks it had left. Sherlock winced slightly, but he hadn’t yelled out in pain. He supposed compared to last time this was nothing, but it appeared that it had worked even if John felt worse now than he had previously. 

He clambered up beside the younger man making sure to stay on the side of his good hand. ‘Can we just…’

‘Just what, Pet?’

‘…Snuggle, Sir?’

John’s head ducked and he smiled in relief, ‘Of course.’

 

‘Are you saying it was a mistake to punish me? Something I asked for. Something I needed.’

‘I know you needed it, Pet. I’m not saying punishing you was a mistake. I’m saying the physical aspect was. You’ve always known how much I hate caning you and I punished you because I promised if you asked for it I would. You felt you needed it and I don’t know if you’re right or not, but if you feel better now then it worked, but the last time I physically punished you were out of order.’

‘No it wasn’t, sir. I deserved it.’

‘Sherlock, your brother blew it all out of proportion.’

‘He apologised.’

‘I know, but I still punished you for it.’

‘John, you’ve explained this to me, back when we first started. I do something wrong, you punish me, and it puts it right, that is what happened.’

‘I know,’ John sighed. 

Their conversation was interrupted by a yell from downstairs. It was Mrs. Hudson.

John sighed again, ‘Get dressed pet and go and answer the door.’

Sherlock was about to argue. He was comfy after all. But John just raised an eyebrow the way that always made Sherlock submit.

Smirking, he rolled out of bed and found a suit from somewhere. 

He trotted down the stairs feeling loads better than he had and glad that John wasn’t feeling bad either. He swung the door open to reveal…

‘Hello, freak.’

‘Sergeant Donovan, how nice of you to drop by.’ 

‘Drop the sarcasm, freak.’ She grabbed his arm and spun him around into the wall, bringing both hands behind him and cuffing them there, she brought one hand up and held it in his neck to keep him from struggling. If she was paying any sort of attention she would have realised that he wasn’t even attempting to push her off and his face was contorted into a grimace.

‘What the fucking hell is going on?’ John yelled from the door to the flat. He charged down the stairs on spotting Sherlock face first into the wall wincing, he noticed the cuffs and pulled Donovan away.

‘Unhand me Doctor Watson, or I’ll arrest you too. Sherlock Holmes I am arresting you for attempted murder; you do not have to-

‘Yeah, I know the rest,’ Sherlock snarled.

‘Let him go, can you not see he’s buggared his wrist.’

Sherlock still had his cheek pressed to the wall as Donovan’s hand was on the back of his neck.

Mrs. Hudson appeared. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Maybe you should have answered the door Mrs. H.’ Sherlock smiled but it was weak and he grimaced in pain.

‘How did that happen?’ Donovan indicated the detective’s wrist.

‘I hit a table,’ he growled, hoping against hope Greg had his back.

‘What do you mean, you hit a table?’

‘Sherlock don’t answer any more questions, I’m phoning Mycroft. Now uncuff him.’

‘Put him in the car,’ she ordered over her shoulder completely ignoring the doctor.

‘He has done serious damage to the ligament in his wrist. If you do not uncuff him I will have you for negligence. And I think Mycroft might have something to say about that given that not only is Sherlock his brother but his boyfriend's best friend and seeing as he is primarily known as the British Government, something rather unpleasant may happen to you in the very near future.’ John always did enjoy using Mycroft as threatening material. It always worked. 

‘Uncuff him, but hold him, he’s likely to run.’

Sherlock couldn’t be bothered to argue with her as the officer behind put the hand cuffs back into his pocket but grabbed the jacket of his suit.

‘Now who is it that he has supposedly tried to murder.’

‘Arthur Collins.’

‘Are you for real? Sherlock’s spent weeks hunting him down, the guy’s a serial rapist.’

‘And a compliant has been made. Put him in the car.’

‘Does Greg know about this?’

‘DI Lestrade is not on this case, the complaint was made to me. I am following it up.’

‘Sherlock!’ he yelled when he had reached the police car. ‘I’m phoning Mycroft and I’ll be right behind you.’

Sherlock nodded and smiled sadly from the car door and then turned to duck into it.

 

Sherlock sat opposite Donovan in an interview room, just a small table separating them. The detective was incredibly tempted to put his feet on the edge of the table, but the women in front of him already despised him, no need to add more reason to set him up.

The sub had turned down a duty solicitor, claiming he had nothing to hide- it worked in the TV shows John was so keen on watching, it just appeared to make Donovan even more sure of herself.

Rather than put his feet up he had his chin resting on his good hand, and the two good fingers he had remaining on his other hand began tapping out a random rhythm as he composed in his head. He did it alone back at the flat, but at the flat he had John to come over and growl in his ear ‘settle,’ or ‘pluck your violin rather than the table.’ But here he didn’t have John, he didn’t have his Dom. He just had an irritating Sergeant who was going out of her way to ignore him by riffling through papers that had no bearing on this case, judging by the date stamp of 3 years ago and the fact it was an armed robbery not an ‘attempted murder’.

‘You know, when you’re ready Sally.’

The glare she meant to aim at him was focused down on the table as she ignored the sub.

‘You would do absolutely anything to get me in trouble wouldn’t you?’

‘How did you hurt your wrist?’ she asked ignoring the younger man. Sherlock didn’t ignore her, though it was tempting, he decided to be the 'grown up' for once. 

‘I was angry. I hit a table.’

‘Why were you angry?’

‘It’s an emotion. I’m allowed to be angry, free country and everything as my dear brother always reminds me.’

‘I never said you weren’t allowed to be I asked you why.’

‘Because some moron got to that jumped up moron before I did.’

Donovan’s head cocked on one side as if she was eyeing him up; judging him.  
Sherlock prided himself as being a good liar, it was just simple misdirection. Not offering a defense at all seemed like a destructive tactic but offering an alternative such as somebody else attacking Collins would force her to look into other options.

‘What did Collins say anyway?’

‘He accused you of beating him unconscious. He admitted possession of a firearm but that you knocked it from his grip before ‘laying into him’.’

‘Firearm? Oh yes, there was a gun on the floor when we ran in, I never touched it though, I don’t like the things but if I had my wits about me I might have been more selective in what I hit rather than a defenseless table. Can I go now?’

‘No.’

‘You’re only so-called evidence is a bodged report from a charged rapist of 6 young girls, why am I the one being questioned?’

‘Because he is in hospital, you are not.’

‘If you had grabbed my wrist any harder earlier I would have been!’ Sherlock snapped back. ‘I want to see John.’

‘Tough. You don’t get to go until I say you can.’

He stood up and kicked at the door of the interview room.

‘Freak! Sit down!’

The door opened and when Sherlock saw who it was he took a step back and smiled warily, time to find out whose side the new arrival was really on. 

‘What’s going on in here?’ Greg asked. 

‘He’s just started going mad, Sir.’

‘I’m not as stupid as Sherlock makes out, Sally.’

Sherlock smiled sheepishly at his fellow sub.

‘I’ve been watching from the observation room for the last half hour. You’ve been going through the Robinson case files.’ He nodded at the table where notes had been scattered in Sherlock’s attempt to flee the sergeants company. ‘Winding him up just so you get a rise and then calling him a freak on tape probably isn’t the way interviews are done, well they weren’t back in my day.’

Donovan froze. ‘I- he-’

‘What? Didn’t give you the answers you wanted to hear? Could you take him back to his cell please?’ he asked the officer stood by the door. He turned back to the waiting woman. ‘We are going to have a very long chat about this, but first I’m going to see to him. Get the FME down to the cells.’


	16. Proving a point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta read by the usual!

Sherlock sat on a bed in a cell. He’d lost his coat and scarf and it was decidedly cold. He’d hit the door once but realised that it hurt so just sat down. The FME had been in a while ago and restrapped his wrist. According to the medic if it wasn’t for John's patching up abilities Donovan would have done some serious damage when she grabbed his wrist. Sherlock just smirked. ‘John's patching up abilities’ he was a doctor, it was his job and he was bloody good at it.

He sat there for what felt like hours but didn’t know how long it actually was before he heard a voice that could have had him skipping if there was the room.

‘Where is my brother?’

He didn’t hear the response but Mycroft was angry and he would not have liked to have been on the end of his temper that some poor copper was. 

‘Why?’ Sherlock had to make do only hearing half of the conversation as the officer Mycroft was talking to was trying to respond politely to the most powerful man in Britain.

‘What evidence have you got?’

‘Then why is he in a cell?’

‘Mycroft!’ he heard John and Greg exclaim together.

‘Gregory please explain to me why my brother is in a cell when he hasn’t done anything wrong.’

Once again it was only Mycroft’s voice that was audible. 

‘That is what this gentleman said. What evidence is there?’

 

Greg shrugged. ‘I don’t know why he is still here. The guy was beat up when we found him and according to Donovan something was wrong with the CCTV so that it cannot be proved he was when we got there, however,’ he glared at Donovan who was behind the desk going through the filing cabinet. ‘It cannot be proved that he wasn’t,’ he turned to the desk sergeant. ‘Release Mr. Holmes.’

‘On whose authority? Sir?’

‘Mine, your senior officer, Sergeant. Now have Mr. Holmes released at once. Donovan you can show our guests out.’

She glared but nodded once.

Both the Doms behind Greg were smiling, John glad that the DI was there to sort this mess and Mycroft because for some reason he loved it when Greg got all authoritarian. 

Mycroft stepped to one side as the desk sergeant moved around with the keys and headed for the cells.

‘Gregory, a word.’

Greg moved over to his Dom, head low. Mycroft had told him not to kneel at work no matter how much it felt like he must. Greg’s position of authority was challenging enough without kneeling in front of his subordinates. But Greg still showed the necessary respect to his Dom, not just because Mycroft would have serious words with him if he didn’t, but because it made him feel… well closer to his Dom.

‘Why is Donovan,’ he spat the name. ‘the women who arrested my brother in the first place, showing him out?’

‘Just proving a point, Sir. She treats Sherlock like shit, I was intending on fixing that, because of her I had to get the FME in to check over Sherlock’s wrist.’

‘You’re finishing work now too Detective Inspector.’ Mycroft placed a hand on his sub's shoulder and squeezed, Greg nodded. 

‘We’re going out for tea. All of us.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

At that point, the Iron Gate that blocked off the cells from the rest of the station opened with a loud clang and Sherlock appeared a large frown on his face. He looked mightily pissed off. He glared daggers at Donovan over the desk until he spotted John. The Dom practically skipped across the room, scooped his sub up being mindful of his wrist and spun him around. He kissed him and settled him back on his feet. ‘How’s your wrist?’ He asked as he pulled back.

‘Hurting,’ the detective grumbled followed by another glare at Donovan.

‘I said I was sorry.’

‘I should put in a complaint. Arrested with no evidence, man handling in a way that made already obvious injuries worse, accusing your senior officer of lying. Wasting my time and everybody else involved with this ‘case’ and the worse crime of all, pulling my brother out of work to come and deal with me.’

‘Alright Lockie,’ Mycroft mumbled, just loud enough for the two Doms and two subs to hear. He rested a hand on his shoulder and rubbed his thumb across the fabric of his suit. Sherlock had tensed up again and John appeared to be too amused to notice for a moment, but the second he saw he put his arm around his sub's waist and nodded briefly to Mycroft. 

The detective took a deep breath. ‘Can we go, Sir?’ 

John glanced at Greg for confirmation. 

‘I do believe my brother is a little less clothed than he was when he came in. He wants his coat and scarf back.’

Sherlock smiled. Donovan was already at the door and had entered the code. The desk sergeant placed all of Sherlock’s belongings on the desk and had turned to completely ignore the crowd on the other side of it.

 

As the front gate opened the 4 made their way out, Sherlock struggling into his coat as he went. John laughed but helped him into it. ‘I love watching you fight your coat, Pet. You always make it look attractive somehow.’ 

Sherlock poked his tongue out and John leant forward catching it between his teeth. The sub hissed when John let it go. ‘Sorry, Sir.’

‘Good pet.’

John took his hand and tugged him off after the other pair.

‘Freak, wait!’ came a yell from the building. It was obvious who it was just by the name.

John wasn’t the only one who bristled. Greg’s shoulders tensed and Mycroft spun on his heel. Did she not realise how powerful Mycroft was and what he could do at a drop of a hat. 

The eldest Holmes shared gazes with John. 

But Sherlock had already returned to the Detective Sergeant and by the time John had the chance to do anything the conversation was in full swing. The doctor caught the end.

‘…you may think you’ve got away with it.’

‘Got away with what? I never did anything wrong?’

‘Why does he keep you around?’ 

‘Honestly?’ Sherlock asked. She nodded. ‘I don’t know.’

John growled behind him and noticed that the sub's one good hand was clenched. 

‘But I love him and I wouldn’t change it for the world.’

Donovan reached her hand out but John was quickly between them, unsure what she would do.

‘Back off, he’s mine. Nothing and I mean nothing will change that. Go to Mycroft,’ he added to his detective. 

Nodding slowly, Sherlock made his way over to his older brother. 

John lowered his voice and hissed, ‘If you ever call him freak again, pick on him or even think about attempting to stitch him up for anything, Mycroft will not be able to find the pieces to send a car for. I don’t give a shit if you are a Dom; Sherlock is my sub, mine, not yours. Got it?’

Donovan’s eyes widened and she nodded slightly, mouth agape.

‘Good,’ John said a bit more cheerfully.

Donovan ran back inside the station so quickly it caused the group of friends behind John to laugh. Seeing that his sub was joining in, John cracked a grin, caught up with the others and took Sherlock’s hand in his again.

‘You’re paying Mycroft.’ John held Sherlock close. Following suit Greg offered his own hand to Mycroft who accepted it with a smile.

 

‘So are you going to explain?’ John asked over the table. 

Mycroft had picked one of the most expensive restaurants that he could which didn’t separate the Doms from the subs. The table had enough seats for all 4 of them rather than the usual kneeling spots. Both Greg and Sherlock looked a little put out; even if they did glance a thankful smile at the older Doms. John’s hand sat on Sherlock’s knee and was rubbing it softly, soothingly. 

‘Donovan made the mistake of texting me, rubbing it in. I immediately rang Mycroft.’

‘And I had Anthea hack into their security system, took a bit of doing, they’re on a secluded circuit. That Sergeant of yours has serious issues, not just with Sherlock. You know, Gregory, you should do something about her.’

‘Like what, Sir? She practically runs it when I’m not there and you seem to require me more and more meaning I’m out of the office more and more.’

‘Promote someone else.’

Greg laughed. ‘What did you say to her John? She ran a mile.’

‘Nothin’.’

‘Go on, Sir, what did you say? It was quite funny.’

John didn’t get a chance to answer as a waiter placed their drinks on the table. John and Mycroft thanked him but both subs were too distracted by the doctor to notice the drinks being put down.

‘I just said to her, if she ever upsets you again, Mycroft won’t be able to find the pieces to send a car for.’

The others laughed, ‘Thanks a lot John,’ Greg chuckled.

‘What?’ the DI was clearly being sarcastic.

‘I’ve got to put up with her at work tomorrow.’

Mycroft’s hand suspiciously left the table. ‘You could always take the day off.’

Greg yelped quietly. It was more of a whimper. ‘You know, I might just do that.’

‘Please, brother dear, we’re about to eat.’ John laughed at the look on Sherlock’s face. He was caught between curious and disgusted and couldn’t seem to pick one. The doctor was glad that Sherlock seemed so relaxed around his older brother, more so than he had ever seen him even before Sherlock ‘jumped’ off Bart’s. 

‘Oh Sherlock, babe, lighten up. I haven’t got to go into work tomorrow either and if Greg isn’t going in neither will you!’ It had become an unspoken agreement between John and Sherlock about when he could go out on cases. The only time he could go out without the doctor was with Greg. Any other cases and John had to be there. That alone said a lot about the trust John had for the DI to keep Sherlock safe and he was obliged to tell the Dom if Sherlock did anything stupid. 

Sherlock’s eyebrows shot up at the thought but he turned his attention to his fellow sub rather than respond. ‘I kind of owe you one, as they say don’t I?’

‘Don’t know what you mean.’

‘Well, first you stop me from properly hurting him,’ he said quietly, genuine fear passing over him at the thought at what he had done and what might have been if Greg hadn’t stepped in. Another reason John trusted him, he would always help the detective, whenever he needed it, however he needed it. ‘And then you tell the perfect lie in order for it to be the same as mine.’

‘Lie?’

‘What did you say I hit,’ he raised his bandaged hand. ‘If it wasn’t Collins?’ 

‘Table,’ the DI said simply.

Sherlock smiled, point proven. ‘You’re not as intellectually inferior as you like to make out.’

Greg raised his glass. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’


	17. What about the parents?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's taken John 2 years to realise something what he probably should have known from the start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by the usual!
> 
> If anyone has any ideas of what you want our double act or even our quadruple act to get up to just let me know, they may get up to it when they get back from Sherlock's parents!

‘Sherlock?’

‘Yep?’

‘What was that?’

‘Yes, Sir?’ He was in their bedroom looking for something under the bed. He was laid out on his stomach, his legs kicking out oddly, for no apparent reason. John reflected on how much he loved the horizontal man in front of him. He was so distracted by Sherlock’s arse he didn’t think through what he was about to say next, so didn’t plan to ask his question in a way that wouldn’t result in immediate abuse or sarcasm. ‘I just had a thought…’ He folded his arms across his chest and rested against the doorframe, hopefully in a way that would deflect any sarcasm that was on its way, no such luck.

Sherlock took a moment to shuffle out from under the bed, narrowly missing his head on the wooden slats, making John wince in the protest. Why was the giant headed genius so accident prone? John couldn’t imagine the hell the younger man would cause if he hurt himself in a way that made him ‘bored’ for months on end.

The detective rocked himself over onto his side and rolled his eyes up at his doctor. ‘Thinking, John, how incredibly dull.’

He hopped to his feet after no success in his search.

Ignoring the younger man John asked, ‘Do your parents know about me? About us?’

The confidence and bravado of a Holmes was suddenly gone, to be replaced by the quiet submissive that was so rare but so loved at the same time. His sub's head ducked down sheepishly and his foot shuffled on the carpet, his toe twisting back and forth.

‘I… Um… Sort of, Sir.’

‘Sort of, how, Sherlock?’

‘They know you live with me. They’re more than aware you are a Dom. They’ve seen the papers after the terrorist threat when I returned from Serbia years ago.’

‘Have you spoken to them since you’ve been back?’ John hoped so, but he wouldn’t put it past the genius to neglect ringing or meeting up with his parents.

‘Mycroft, the prat that he is, insists on me ringing them every once in a while, and I bumped into them at Mycroft’s office a few months ago, accidently I might add.’

‘So they have no idea you are in a relationship and have been for the past 2 years.’

Sherlock took a deep breath, the rise in his shoulders as he inhaled making him look 2 inches taller. He went to say something but changed his mind, he shrugged instead.

‘No, Sherlock, shrugging is not good enough.’

‘My father is a very difficult person to get along with. We never got on. Ever. When I went into rehab he disowned me, didn’t talk to me for 6 months. It didn’t bother me but it upset mummy, so she and Mycroft convinced him to "give me another chance". I don’t see the point, no one is ever good enough for him.’

‘Thanks,’ John muttered, slightly annoyed. He turned his back about to head back into the kitchen.

Sherlock caught him by the arm. ‘I’m sorry, Sir, that’s not what I meant. I was talking about me. I believe that he has accepted Greg into their little abode, but he’s a sub and Mycroft has always been their perfect little boy, or not so little boy now. I was never good enough, even as a child. The only time my father ever argued with Mycroft, to this date, was over me, usually my father sticking his nose in and my brother protecting me. It caused confrontation and because the argument was over me, naturally it was my fault.’

John had turned back to face him and took hold of both his hands. ‘What about your mother?’

‘We get on very well,’ he sounded surprised of himself. ‘She accepts both me and my brother and our lifestyle choices. She has nothing against me not being dominant. My father on the other…’

‘So neither of them have anything against you being gay, but being submissive…’

‘Quite.’

‘You ought to tell them. In fact you already should have.’

‘John, I would, but the lectures I receive whenever I grace myself with their presence is not the sort of thing I want to subject you to.’

‘I can handle myself, Sherlock. I am a big boy.

‘I know,’ the detective quickly closed the gap between them. He tilted his head on one side, his version of silent permission to kiss him. John nodded briefly and their lips caught. John nipped at his lip until Sherlock opened his mouth.

‘I know you can handle yourself,’ Sherlock offered when they pulled apart. ‘You’ve proved that more than enough in the past few years. It’s just, I’d rather not go through it for either of our benefits unless absolutely necessary and this is going to come as a bit of a shock, but I think I would want Mycroft there.’

That did come as a shock and the doctor’s eyebrows raised. ‘Why?’

‘He’s always acted… as a sort of buffer. Between myself and my father.’

‘He cant be that bad.’

Sherlock raised an eyebrow that clearly disagreed. ‘Trust me on this, John.’

‘Like I don’t normally trust you.’ He shook his head slightly, dismissing the idea that he couldn’t trust his sub. He sighed, ‘Anyway, haven’t you got a case on at the moment. You rushed off sharpish yesterday.’

‘I _was_ working,’ Sherlock said, indignantly. ‘You interrupted me.’

He feigned shock, ‘Well I do apologise, Pet. How’s it going? Are you working with Greg?’

‘Yeah, it’s with Greg. Do you remember that banker case we had a few years ago with Dimmock?’

‘Of course.’

‘It’s similar to that. Very similar in fact. But I’m still trying to work out what book it is, I think I know but I can't seem to find it.’

Sherlock spun on the spot and caught sight of their bookshelf in the corner. He shuffled over to it, ignoring the odd look from his Dom.

‘So why were you under the bed?’

‘I was looking for the London A-Z book that I stole from that French couple. I kept it after we shut down the smuggler network.’

‘You burnt it to pieces, Sherlock, despite my protests. When we got back from the pool with Moriarty and his little game.’ John wasn’t the only one who shivered at the memory. Sherlock looked over from where he was rooting through the shelves throwing books to the floor, concerned. John smiled reassuringly.

‘Well I suppose I could go and nick Mycroft’s.’

‘Or buy one. You can get them in practically every shop across London.’

‘Nah, stealing Mycroft’s is more fun. You coming, Sir?’

‘I’ve got to leave for work in half an hour.’

Sherlock shrugged. ‘Alright then. See you tonight.’ He leant forward to kiss him again and then grabbed his coat from the hook and ran down the stairs. ‘Say hi to Mary for me.’

‘Oh and Sherlock?’ John called after him.

He was struggling into his Belstaff at the bottom of the stairs. He spun around when he’d finished fighting his coat. ‘Yes, Sir?’

John smiled but the detective saw the hidden threat in the words he was about to say before he said them. ‘You will ask Mycroft when he and Greg are next free.’

Deducing why, he scowled. ‘But-’

‘No buts, Sherlock! I can’t believe it has taken me over two years to do something about it.’

‘I haven’t met your parents.’

‘Sherlock, my mum died years ago and my father lives in America. As for Harry, you have met her.’

‘Briefly.’

‘She was pissed. She’s always pissed. I don’t need her. She wasn’t there for me when you disappeared. She’s never been there for me and therefore doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.’

‘You’ve suddenly decided.’

‘No, I’ve known for a while. I just haven’t admitted it to myself. You’re all I need. You’re all I’ve ever needed.’

‘Same with you.’

‘No, Sherlock, no.’ John ran down the stairs stopping in front of him. He cupped his neck in his hand. ‘No you can’t compare your situation to mine, Sherlock. I don’t want or need my sister, whereas I know for a fact you need Mycroft. Your parents, as much as you may disagree, care about you.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because Mycroft wouldn’t make you ring them if they didn’t care.’

John turned to go up the stairs, determined on leaving the conversation there. ‘But-’

The Dom stopped on the second step and reached over to grab the scruff of his sub's neck. ‘Enough of the arguing, Sherlock.’

‘But, Sir-’ Sherlock was still protesting, despite the fact he probably knew that he wouldn’t win. He never did.

He shifted his grip and pushed the sub into the wall. ‘Do you need me to punish you before I go to work? I’m sure half an hour is plenty of time…’

‘No, Sir! No!’ He relaxed in John’s grip and appeared to hang from his collar. ‘I’m sorry, Sir.’

‘So what is going to happen when you reach the club?’

‘I’m going to talk to Mycroft, Sir.’

That answer was too vague. ‘What about?’

‘When he and Greg are free, Sir.’

‘Good boy.’

He let him go and Sherlock opened his mouth to retort.

‘I would seriously rethink if you are about to argue.’

‘Please, John, Sir-’

‘Enough!’ John barked, now angry. He grabbed the detective by the curls and tugged him up the stairs.

‘Sir!’

‘I would be quiet if I were you, Boy.’ He pushed his finger into the D ring of his collar and dragged him over to his punishment corner. ‘Position.’

Defeated, Sherlock dropped to his knees and rested his hands in the back of his neck.

‘If you fidget I will tell Mary I am going to be late and I will put you over my knee. Now do you know why you’re in the corner?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Why?’

‘I argued, Sir.’

‘You argued after I had specifically told you not to. And not only that, you made a point of doing it outside the flat. Now, 15 minutes, Boy, and you will keep still.’

Sherlock swallowed awkwardly. ‘Yes, Sir.’ he knew it wouldn’t take much for John to get a couple of hours off. Mary knew exactly what he was like.


	18. Things Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock goes to speak to Mycroft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr
> 
> Sorry this took a while guys but hopefully the fact that it's nearly twice as long should help?

Mary had been waiting a while, quite a bit longer than a while and John hadn’t called anyone through. She quickly decided that she needed to check on her friend. She got up and smiled at the few elderly people dotted around the waiting room. Knocking briefly, she poked her head into John’s office door.

‘Oi, Doc!’

He was face down on his desk, but clearly wasn’t asleep. It was his worriedly thinking position. And there was only one thing he could be worriedly thinking of.

‘John?!’

He looked up, startled.

‘Oh, Mary. Hi.’ He glanced at the clock.

‘One of those days, huh?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Well James has just got back from lunch. If you want your few to go to him, we could go for a coffee?’

He dry washed his face and then nodded, exhaling loudly. He nodded. ‘Yeah. Thanks, Mary.’

John watched her go to make the necessary arrangements and sighed. He wasn’t regretting punishing Sherlock. It hadn't been exactly intense, despite his wayward sub’s opinion on the corner, and he knew it needed to be done. It didn’t stop him wondering why the younger man felt so strongly towards his parents, his father in particular.

When his fellow Dom entered the room again, he was glad for the welcome distraction and he followed her without hesitation when she grabbed his coat and his hand and tugged him towards the door.

 

‘So what’s got you in a pickle?’

John had been watching his tea for a while, swirling it around in the cup. He glanced up and smiled briefly.

‘Sherlock,’ she said, answering her own question. That smile was silent code. ‘What’s he done this time?’

‘He hasn’t done anything. For a change,’ he smiled. ‘Have you never found it odd that I- we never mentioned his parents?’

‘Well not really. You never talk of yours and I never talk of mine.’

‘Yeah, but there’s reasons for that.’

‘What I’m an orphan and your father lives in America?’

John smiled softly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean-’

‘I know. I know,’ her hand moved over the table and took his. If any other women had done that, John would have freaked out, but with Mary it was different. They both liked each other. A lot. But they were both Dominant and that sort of thing couldn’t be ignored plus she liked Sherlock just as much, which was something John was glad for. Mary offered equal comfort to either of them when they needed it and they did her.

‘I’m guessing you confronted him about his parents?’

He nodded.

‘And?’

‘I had to punish him.’

‘For what?’ Mary was not unaccustomed to this. John did it nearly every time he punished the younger man. He didn’t regret what had happened as such, but he loved him so much he doubted himself and his abilities as a Dom. She loved proving him wrong and making him feel right about himself and his relationship with Sherlock again. It usually ended up with a friendly threat of if he didn’t ‘man the hell up’ she would steal the detective off him!

‘He told me he didn’t want me to meet his parents.’

‘And you punished him for that?’ She knew there was more to it. John wasn’t that petty and he certainly wouldn’t punish his sub for that- something so small, not like some Doms. She even knew some that were like it. It was people like that that gave Dom’s a bad name and could often scare subs by just thinking about it. However, this Dom seem reluctant to part with any more information.

‘Come on, Doc, I know there is more to it.’

He downed his cup of tea and ordered a top up before answering her. ‘I didn’t punish him for that. I punished him for arguing with me more than once, actually quite a few more times than once.’

‘So what’s the problem? That’s a very valid reason to punish him. I bet you weren’t even that harsh. What did you do? Stick him in the corner?’

He shrugged and she laughed. ‘And you think you were in the wrong for putting him in time out?’

‘He seemed genuinely upset at the prospect of me meeting them, especially his father. I cant work out if I feel guilty or intrigued. Was I wrong to punish him without fully listening to what he had to say first?’

‘Fully? So you did listen?’

‘Yes. It sounded like he was spinning me a line. You know him nearly as well as I do. If he wants his own way enough, he’ll do anything to get it. But if so, what is the real reason he doesn’t want me to meet them?’

‘Maybe he is telling you the truth. I mean after you let him out did he continue arguing?’

‘No.’

‘You said it yourself, if he was spinning you a line to get his own way, he would have got his own way and not given up after corner time despite how much he hates it. What specifically did he argue about?’

‘I asked him to talk to Mycroft about it because he said he would want him there if we were to meet. He didn’t like that idea.’

‘Ok, well maybe you should listen to his reasons and make sure it’s the truth. But you are right, you should have met his parents by now. Did you make it clear why you were punishing him?’ she asked knowing he had, John was traditional like that.

‘Yes, of course I did.’

‘Then you have nothing be in such a huff about.’

‘So you think I should press it?’

‘Definitely. And if he continues to argue make it clear again why you had to and stick him in the corner for longer.’

Nodding, John thumbed out a text. _Did you speak to Mycroft?_

 

‘Should we head back to work?’ the doctor suggested.

Mary smiled, she always won!

John held his arm out for her and she slipped her hand through.

 

Across the other side of London, Sherlock’s phone beeped in his pocket. He read it quickly and replaced it back in his pocket, without responding.

No, he hadn’t asked Mycroft, even though he was sure his brother knew something was up. He had been so distracted trying to figure out what was wrong with his little brother that he hadn’t noticed him nick the London A-Z book off the shelf. The book that he was currently rifling through, searching for words. It took him ten minutes to realise that it wasn’t the right book and he shoved it in his pocket next to his phone.

He spent long contemplative minutes in the cab ride home trying to work out why John was suddenly so bothered by his parents. It would be okay if they could meet his mother separately, but that idea alone was preposterous.

2 years. What would another couple of months mean? Nothing. It would not make the slightest bit of difference. Well, it would. It would keep them both in a good mood for the foreseeable future. If he spoke to his parents, he worried how his father would react to John. He was happy. They were happy. He didn’t want his father to spoil that. This was the closest thing to settled Sherlock had ever been. Why ruin that? He didn’t think his reaction to the doctor would be that bad, but then again his father had precedence over every little thing and just the fact that he could be a Dom would be enough to satisfy his ideas on Sherlock’s life choices. Like being submissive was a life choice. He was happy now but that was down to John. He would have much preferred to be Dominant just like his brother. But then again, he could never be in a relationship with the doctor if he was Dominant.

 

When John got home from work, he found one detective walking around the room trashing the bookshelf. It was clear the younger man’s head was about to explode, metaphorically, and John was angry enough with the brat without him making things worse.

He was tense and ratty and John couldn’t get a single word out of him, let alone a sentence, and that was pause for thought. Sherlock being silent was very rarely a good thing.

So that is how he ended up where he was now, tied up and left on the table until his brain was empty enough and he was more than willing to talk. John hadn’t even had the chance to find out why he hadn’t responded to his message. He’d sent more than one; all ignored. He had no doubt that Sherlock hadn’t even mentioned visiting their parents to his older brother, but it couldn’t be that bad. He was just being argumentative, just being Sherlock. Even if that Sherlock was few and far between these days.

Sherlock wriggled slightly but he knew he wasn’t going to get his Dom’s attention. He wasn’t completely sure he wanted it. He couldn’t even rest his head on the massive table that they had specifically gone out and bought when they realised how much time the sub would spend on it.

His feet were tied together with the usual rope, as were his hands and they were joined at the shortest possible distance behind him. This therefore bent his knees out to the side in a sort of diamond shape and left a good view for John whenever he fancied it. Except he didn’t fancy it. He didn’t even glance over.

John had also used the new hook device that they had bought a while back but never had a chance to use. He had slipped it into his hole with as little preparation as he could without hurting him and tied it to another piece of rope between it, the rope tying his hands and feet and his collar. Sherlock was immobile. Utterly and completely.

John had been reluctant with the hook at first. He couldn’t seem to think that Sherlock would like it. It was rough, or not rough, more… crude. He couldn’t understand why Sherlock liked crude, not after Serbia.

John glanced over at him from the chair without moving his paper. He was still wriggling and the ring gag in his mouth was just frustrating him further. Subspace seemed a long way off. He wasn’t willing to punish him yet, although he knew he was going to without a doubt, but he was still angry and this time to reflect was needed. For both of them, even if Sherlock hated the idea and possibly hadn’t realised yet. But damn, he was getting hard just listening to the whimpers coming from his petulant sub and one glance at his face showed drool dripping down his chin. That picture didn’t help his hard on either.

He dropped his paper and stood in one swift movement. ‘I told you to be quiet, Sherlock. Is it even possible for you to obey me anymore?’

 _I don’t want to disobey you, John, Sir. I hate it when you’re mad at me._ The words went unspoken and Sherlock didn’t think the gag was the reason. He grumbled something incoherent instead.

John pushed his trousers and pants down just over his hips and pushed inside the waiting mouth; the sub grunted, sending moaning vibrations up the Dom’s cock.

The doctor attempted to last as long as he could, but the heating and the sucking that Sherlock couldn’t avoid was too much and eventually he came down his sub’s throat,l. The younger man swallowed every last drop like he always did and John pulled out, breathing heavily.

He unbuckled the gag but held it in his hand as he spoke. ‘Your head clear now?’

Sherlock was tempted to say no so that this could carry on. He knew when this was over he had punishment coming, but he also knew from experience that punishment was inevitable and avoiding it wouldn’t prevent it, just more likely make John mad. He couldn’t lie. His head was clearer, gagged and sucking on his Dom’s cock in unavoidable circumstances tended to do that.

Apparently the doctor didn’t like the thinking part of his sub's answer and pushed the gag back in, doing it up behind his head again.

‘Shame I got off just now because I’m not putting my cock back in there until it’s no longer sensitive. May take a while. My recovery time isn’t quite what it used to be, age and all that, but you’re not getting another chance to speak until I’m hard again.’ John’s smile was slightly pissed off and Sherlock just grunted, looking away.

It was an hour before John appeared in the detective’s line of sight again. He pushed in and started again, this time pulling out just before he finished.

‘Is your head clear now?’ John repeated. He unbuckled the gag.

Sherlock worked his jaw and swallowed a few times before he attempted to speak. ‘Your recovery time is loads faster than an hour, John.’

John went to replace the gag again and Sherlock quickly shook his head. ‘No, Sir! Wait! I’m sorry, Sir. I meant… my head is clear, Sir.’

‘Good.’ Despite Sherlock’s words, the Dom didn’t put the gag down, just trailed his finger round the edge as if it was more interesting than his sub tied up on the table. ‘Now, I’m going to ask you a question. One I already pretty much know the answer to. I just want to know if you are willing to lie to me or not. Either way you are getting punished, but lie to me and it won’t be once.’

Sherlock swallowed hard again.

‘Did you speak to your brother about when he and Greg are next free?’

‘No, Sir,’ there was no point in lying. John said he already knew the answer and he hadn’t helped matters today by getting punished first thing and then ignoring his Dom’s messages.

‘Do you know how I already knew about the fact that you blatantly ignored my orders?’

‘No, Sir,’ the truth again, his skills of deduction weren’t doing great today.

‘Mycroft rang. Said you went to his office, wandered around a bit, actually had a cup of tea with him, but you were acting all shifty. He wanted to know if I had had to punish you recently. Or if something had happened. Of course I told him about this morning and he seemed very surprised at the idea of me meeting your parents.’

‘I was going to, Sir, I swear, I just-’

‘Quiet Sherlock.’

He went about untying him and Sherlock groaned as his legs were released and he could stretch them out again. John pulled his arms around the front, gave him a minute to stretch and move, but kept his hand on the back of his neck to keep him on the table. This wasn’t over by a long shot.

As soon as the doctor had deemed it long enough, he replaced the previous rope restraints with Sherlock’s usual leather ones and linked them together with a karabiner, easy to undo but futile to do so. The main part of it was the idea that Sherlock submitted because he wanted to, not because he felt forced into it. The detective wasn’t bothered by the idea of being forced, not by John anyway, but the doctor always gave the impression he was more comfortable if the sub always had a choice. He glanced at the ropes. Bondage was different.

John pulled a tube of lube and a medium sized plug from his pocket and set about settling it into his sub's hole. He let Sherlock stand up and handed him all the toys they’d used.

‘Put these away.’

The detective stared at them and dangled the hook from his finger.

‘And you are on Service for the rest of the afternoon.’

‘But I hate Service-’

‘I don’t care how much you hate it or how tedious you find it. The more the better. Which is precisely the point. This is your second punishment today and I haven’t had to so much as tell you off for weeks. Service for the rest of the afternoon,’ the Dom repeated, ‘and if you argue with me again, I will take tomorrow off and you’ll have Service all day tomorrow too. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ he quickly dealt with the things in his hands and then returned for his trousers.

‘I don’t think so, Pet, do you? I want to see you. All of you. I don’t want you to hide behind your suits especially as I won’t get to see how cute that little blue plug is in your ass if you cover it up, will I? Now go and make me a cuppa. You can make yourself one too.’

Sherlock held his wrists out.

‘I think you can manage the way you are, or is that beyond even you?’

He sighed. He did deserve this, but at least he had got what he wanted; he had got out of visiting father.

‘No, Sir.’

He disappeared into the kitchen and John called out after him. His voice held something of amusement in its tone. ‘I’m waiting for confirmation, but your brother and his sub are free on Sunday. Mycroft said he’d get in touch with your parents and then get back to me by the end of the day.’

Sunday? It was now Tuesday, that was only five days away!

Sherlock stayed on his knees beside his Dom as he drank his tea. Despite such a long punishment, John’s hand was in his sub’s hair as he fed him his own tea.

‘Do you think it’s unfair of me to want to meet your parents?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘Are you willing to cooperate now?’

The “No, Sir” went unheard, but it was there and they both knew.

‘This is happening, Sherlock.’

‘What if I safeword?’

John took a deep breath and had to silently congratulate the younger man’s intelligence yet again. He’d found a loophole.

‘Then we don’t go. Of course we don’t, but you better have a damn good reason why not.’

Well that blocked off that route for him, get out of it and he would have to talk. It was a decision and John knew well enough without ever meeting his father which one he would choose.

At the dropped head John knew he had compliance. However resigned his posture was, he was still on punishment for the disobeying day he had had.

‘In a minute you will go and wash up our cups, then you can make our bed and hoover the bedroom. You can also tidy that bookshelf up.’

Sherlock looked around and appeared to be getting mightily pissed off, but for once he held his tongue.

‘If you do not complain, I will reward you.’

‘Reward me? For what, doing all the chores?’

‘Hardly all the chores, Sherlock, and I think that sentence alone constitutes a complaint does it not?’

Once again the head ducked and John rested his hand there, ruffling his curls softly.

‘Go on then, Boy.’


	19. Full submission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's being more of a pest than normal.  
> Has John got a plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr 
> 
> I want to warn you guys that this chapter is a bit more full on than the others. But remember this is a D/s AU and John has certain ways of dealing with the petulant detective that they both consent despite that we all want them to hug and cuddle 24/7 and this is only fiction.

The next two days were some of the hardest John had ever had with his detective. His sub had completely side-tracked his usual calm persona and had basically become an arsey nightmare. He’d been spanked twice and he’d fought him the whole time. He’d spent more time in the corner than out of it when they were in the flat. He had even threatened him with Service again. Nothing was getting through and he hated punishing him at the best of times. Now he knew what was causing the behaviour, but if he stepped back and said they were no longer going, Mary was right, he would have got what he wanted. It also wouldn’t solve the problem, just postpone it. The next date they arranged would certainly have the same build up as this one. So he had to deal with this, him, now.

It was Friday evening and John couldn’t stand anymore of his sub's behaviour.

He was stood at the window wrenching screeches from his violin.

John marched over to him and snatched the instrument out of his grip.

‘Hey!’ he snapped.

The Dom raised a hand and smacked the back of his head before grabbing his collar and dragging him to the side of his chair.

‘Kneel.’

Sherlock didn’t kneel. Sherlock glared.

‘On your knees, Boy! Now!’

The sharpness in John’s tone made the younger man comply and his knees buckled, throwing him to the floor. ‘Now your recent behaviour has been beyond out of order-’

‘Yes but-’

‘No, Sherlock! Since when was interrupting me ok?’

‘Since now.’

Sherlock ducked his head again when John’s hand reached out and smacked him a lot harder than the first time.

‘Right, now I want a conversation with you where I don’t get abused, insulted or interrupted. Is that possible?’

‘No,’ Sherlock snapped. ‘Probably not.’

‘Corner!’ John barked.

‘Why? It doesn’t work.’ He had a point.

‘Because you do what I tell you.’ He didn’t move.

‘Get your arse in that corner, Boy, or you will be doing it with a sore back side.’

'That doesn’t work either.’

The Dom grabbed a handful of his boy's hair and pulled him up over his lap. He lay blow after blow down between his lower back and his knees. When his hand was throbbing and Sherlock was red and sore, John pushed him back onto his knees again. The younger man hadn’t uttered a sound or struggled, but he had a smirk on his face that said he wasn’t particularly bothered by what had just transpired.

‘Apologise. We can cuddle and you don’t end up in the corner for the rest of the evening.’

John was mad but he wasn’t angry. He just wished that his sub made the right choice.

‘Piss off.’ ‘

You know the more angry you are getting makes me all the more determined to meet your father to find out what all the fuss is about, even if it is only just to punch the guy in the face for making my boy such a sod. Now get your arse into that corner!’

Sherlock’s glare could have cut through steal. This wasn’t going quite how John had planned. He took a handful of the detective’s curls and dragged him to the corner.

‘Hands behind your head!’ the doctor barked.

Out of shock, his hands came up and John grabbed them, slipping the cuffs around his wrists and clipping them onto his collar. ‘When you are ready to apologise, we will have the conversation that I want to have and then we will go to bed.’

 

It had just gone 6 when John had decided to do something about his sub's behaviour. It was now 9 and the brat in the corner hadn’t moved or said a thing. John knew what needed to happen tomorrow, but that was tomorrow. He couldn’t let him win tonight. That’s not how it worked. He was so tired from Sherlock’s behaviour that he had half a mind to go and grab him and drag him to bed without the conversation, but then he would be unaware what was going to happen tomorrow and feel like he was one up. Instead he settled on the sofa and put his feet up, determined to drift until the brat woke him with his apology. It couldn’t be that much longer. He’d been knelt there with a stinging ass he couldn’t rub for just over 2 hours.

 

John jolted awake to the sound of a soft voice calling his name, he glanced at the clock by the skull on the mantel piece, nearly midnight. Bloody hell Sherlock, you have definitely over extended yourself tonight.

‘Sir?’ came a soft call.

The Dom’s ears were tuned into his sub's voice no matter where he was or what he was doing. ‘Yes, Pet?’ John’s voice was crackled from sleep and he cleared it quickly as he sat up and spun around.

His sub had clearly tried to sit back on his reddened flesh, but was too sore to stay like it so he was leant against the wall with his forehead pushed into the corner. His fingers were no longer interlocked behind his head, his cuffs the only thing keeping them up. His legs were trembling with exertion.

‘I’m sorry, Sir.’

‘For?’

‘Being a jerk.’

John laughed. ‘Close. Try again.’

‘Being rude, Sir. For shouting and arguing.’

‘That will do. Come over here.’

He pushed himself from the corner and went to stand up. ‘No, Pet, crawl. I’ll let you up when we go to bed. For now you’ll stay on the floor.’

John stood up, unhooked the cuffs from the collar, leaving them on before returning to his seat.

‘Yes, Sir.’

Achy hands came over his shoulder and he crawled over painfully slowly. ‘You do realise if you had submitted sooner you wouldn’t ache quite as much as you do right now.’

‘I know, Sir.’ He kept his head bowed over as he collapsed next to John’s leg.

‘No, stay on your knees, Pet.’

Groaning Sherlock summoned some last dredges of strength and settled back on his knees. ‘M-May I…?’

‘May you what, Pet?’

He sighed but stayed upright rather than leaning against his Dom’s leg.

‘Ask me, Sherlock, and you can lean against my leg like I know you are dying to.’

He swallowed hard and dropped his head.

‘Please, Sir.’ ‘

Alright,’ John relented. ‘I’ll do you a deal. You sit there and listen to what I’ve got to say and you can lean against my leg.’

‘Yes, Sir.’ ‘

You need full submission tomorrow, Pet.’

The detective was immediately shaking his head. ‘But you already punished me with Service on Tuesday, Sir.’ ‘

And I’ve punished you every day this week because you have had one hell of an attitude problem. Just like I have had to punish you for the last 6 hours. But tomorrow isn’t about punishment. Your head isn’t here, Babe, and I’m worried. I’m not cancelling Sunday no matter how many times you are willing to be punished between now and then. The closer we get to this visit the more irritable you are becoming. Full submission, Sherlock. All day tomorrow. You know the rules.’

The kneeling man sighed. Again. He knew the rules, of course he did. John did this whenever he was struggling and it wasn’t anything to do with a case. A case he needed a few hours, perhaps a whole evening to unwind and then he could get back to it. But other times if he couldn’t fully focus on things and was too distant for three hours of bondage to work than he decided on the full day. As much as he hated it and as much as he complained he hated it. It did help and they both knew that, despite the younger man’s protests.

 

On a full submission day Sherlock was supposed to get up as soon as he awoke, but he couldn’t. His mind was still stuck on tomorrow when he knew it should have been stuck on John.

They had laid in bed last night, with Sherlock curled up on his Dom’s chest. Shortly after he had put some gel on his bruised flesh, not as much as normal but enough to take the majority of the heat out of it, they’d both drifted off.

‘I know you’re awake, Pet. Do I need to remind you of the rules?’

Sherlock jolted at the sound of his Dom’s voice.

The doctor was sat beside him, wide awake and reading, if he had bothered to open his eyes he would have seen that. With a deep groan he sat up and shook his head in response.

‘I asked you a question, Boy.’

'No, Sir.’

‘What was that?’

The sub sighed.

‘Master.’

‘Better. That is your final chance. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Master.’

‘Go.’

That was the second rule on the list for full submission days below the ‘up immediately’ rule. Rule One was the smartest rule, Sherlock knew. He had come to the conclusion the first time they had done this that if he stayed in bed he could sleep the full submission day away, John apparently had had other ideas. Rule Two was the term of address concerning John, he had explained that it changed for Sherlock to go more deeply under and to recognise the day as it was. Sherlock had countered that he managed perfectly well to go into subspace without the more intense scene but John apparently disagreed. Again. It had taken Sherlock well over an hour to stop arguing.

Moments later a much more timid Sherlock than the one he had faced last night appeared at the bedroom door holding the majority of Rule Three, John had the rest.

‘Why do I do this?’ the doctor asked. There was only one answer John wanted, he asked it at the start of every day like this.

‘Because I’m yours,’ he responded quietly.

‘What was that?’

‘Because I’m yours, Master.’ ‘

That’s 5 with the paddle once we’re done here.’ Sherlock gaped for a moment and then nodded, catching himself. ‘Hands behind your head.’

It took him quite a bit longer than normal to comply and John couldn’t work out if it was because he hated full submission days or if it was still because he had to see his parents tomorrow. He buckled the belt around Sherlock’s waist first. It was more of a harness in looks than a belt and did up around his legs also. He tugged it tight and then pushed him down via his shoulders.

‘On your knees then, Boy. You know how this goes.’

With a grumbled acknowledgement, Sherlock lowered his head to the floor and spread his knees.

‘This first.’ He put the cock ring in his hand and watched closely as the younger man reached down between his legs and slipped it over his flaccid cock.

He took a while preparing his sub, pressing one finger in, first to one knuckle then a second. Then a second finger. When he began to push in his second finger and started to scissor them, he brushed over his prostate to tease him.

The body beneath him bucked.

‘Tut tut, Boy, you know the rule about moving.’

He growled deep in his throat.

‘What was that?’ John dropped his free hand on his arse. Sherlock whimpered, his entire upper legs were throbbing after last night and that smack had just brought the pain flooding right back.

‘Yes, Master, Sorry, Master.’

‘Another 5 with the paddle.’

‘But-’

‘I heard the sarcasm, Boy. This is meant to be full submission, not submit when you feel like it.’

Sherlock nodded, his head dropping slightly lower. He grabbed him by his curls as he pulled his fingers out and yanked him upright. ‘It’s taking you a very long time to go under, boy, you better not be fighting ‘space off.’

‘No, Master.’

‘Well, me milking you should hopefully do it. Can you see the stool?’ he asked, dropping his detective back to the floor again.

‘No.’

‘Another 5 with the paddle. You know where it is and you know where this can go if you continue to play up. Get it. Now.’

Another grumble and another smouldering handprint fell before the detective reached under the bed to pull the stool out.

‘It’s a good job I have already had a cup of tea this morning because I doubt you are going to be very cooperative until I’ve milked you are you?’

Sherlock didn’t answer, but John wasn’t really expecting one.

John positioned him over the stool. It was low, just high enough to support his weight if he remained on his knees. It was padded with white leather and had a two inch gap in the centre for his cock to slip through. John secured the cock ring with the small catch that was there especially for this, and then strapped his thighs and wrists to the legs.

‘You know how this works,’ the Dom started lining the smallish plug to his less tight hole. It was short, but wide in girth and Sherlock recognised it immediately as the prostate massager. It was kind of obvious that he was in for a milking when John mentioned it, but the plug made it more realistic. He hated being milked. It used to happen all the time when he always used to mess up during their scenes. Rather than giving him relief his Dom would just drain him and leave him to it. That’s what this stool was for. They had had it professional fitted for him seeing as he needed it so often. But that was then. Recently he hadn’t been milked at all. He lined the stumpy plug up so the handle poked out and was easily reachable.

‘You can only get out when I let you go and I will only let you go when you’re dry.’

‘Yes, Master,’ he moaned when the thing in his arse shifted.

John retreated for a moment and returned with a bowl that he slipped beneath his now not so flaccid cock.

Half an hour later Sherlock was panting like mad. His cock had emptied once in what felt like a massive explosion. Now there seemed to be a constant trickle of white fluid dripping out of his once again hard cock into the bowl below. He hadn’t really expected John to remove the vibrating pain in his arse after the first amount of come was out of his cock, but it would have been a nice surprise.

There was a constant throb at his groin now and John had moved to lay beside the stool and take hold of his length being softer than he had expected as he ran his hand up and down. Sherlock’s mewl of complaint died in his throat. His Dom had been right, compliance was well under way.

When John was sure his sub had got on top of the potential noise, he continued to stroke and run his thumb over the tip, watching as yet another load spilled out of the detective whose eyes were screwed up tight, biting back any noise he knew his Dom wouldn’t like.

Sherlock was crying when John decided they were done and he ran his hand up and down his back as he released him. ‘Shh, Pet, it’s alright it’s over.’ 

'Yes, Master,’ he choked.

‘I’m not going to finish locking you away yet. You can have an hour while we have some breakfast and then I’ll carry on. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, Master,’ Sherlock gasped in relief. He didn’t think he could stand his cock being touched right now it was too sensitive. ‘Thank you, Master.’

‘Good boy.’

Sherlock prepared breakfast that morning and made a coffee for John. As he had already had tea, he wasn’t surprised when the Dom ordered him to kneel beside him rather than sit on his own. There wasn’t much fighting subspace in him and he knew the thing that would tip him over the edge was on its way in less than an hour, but the bit of him fighting ‘space was annoyed at having to eat on his knees. It was alright occasionally, sometimes John didn’t want to be out of touching distance and he’d make him kneel to eat, but he knew if he wanted to eat today he would have to be on his knees. And even if he didn’t want to eat, he would be on his knees with the doctor forcing food into him. In fact, he very much doubted that he wouldn’t be on his feet much at all.

When he shifted slightly his limply hanging cock touched his leg and he cut off a broken whimper.

‘Still sore, Boy?’

‘N-No Master.’ ‘

I know that’s a lie, Boy, another 5 with the paddle. You’ve still got to go in the cage, you understand?’

‘Yes, Master.’ ‘

Good, Boy.’

‘Go and wait in the bedroom. You can wash up when we’re done.’

‘Yes, Master.’

With a bowed head, Sherlock crawled out of the room.

John watched him go. He still wasn’t fully under which did surprise him. The milking usually did the job pretty well. It left Sherlock with nothing to gain, but pleasing him, what full submission should be. Despite what his detective thought, John didn’t prefer this to their usual routine. Yes he always demanded respect even through punishment, but this Sherlock was a different Sherlock. This Sherlock obeyed mindlessly, it helped the fizz in his brain to simmer down to practically nothing and it did its job, but it wasn’t enjoyable for either of them as much as their usual scenes or just their normal day to day activity. A day like today demanded strict orders from John, save for Sherlock’s safe word he, couldn’t speak without permission. He couldn’t do anything without permission and if he did, John had to come down hard on him. That was how it worked. That was how it always worked in the past. But most of all Sherlock hated the cock cage, despite being empty from the milking, despite the fact it was for one day and despite the fact that John very rarely used it, the thing annoyed him and he had to be fully submerged in subspace in order to accept it. He found Sherlock on his knees beside the bed, the rest of the tools for full submission in a pile on the pillow, all except one.

‘Where’s your leash, Boy?’

‘I don’t need-’

‘Despite loathing repeating myself you are taking a very long time to go under. You better not be bloody fighting it.’

‘I’m not!’

He dragged the detective to the coat rack where his leash hung. They very rarely used it. Maybe now Sherlock would wear his collar out in public he might consider wearing his leash too, when he gets over the fact he doesn’t think he likes it.

As soon as his leash was clipped to his collar, he tugged him back into the bedroom and pushed him into the corner, attaching the handle of the leash to the high hook in the wall. He then pushed him to his knees. ‘15 minutes for lack of respect.’

He tugged the collar again so the D ring was around the back and forced his head to bow over. ‘And don’t even think of leaning against the wall.’

Sherlock had to try his absolute hardest not to move and not to rest on the wall. He didn’t want to get in anymore trouble and it was tiring being this close to subspace but not fully over the edge and he hadn’t lied. He wasn’t fighting it, but something was. He knew if he moved even an inch, John would be on him straight away and although the thought of that was quite nice full submission John was different because he had to be. He would start the timer again but not before doubling it and that would put him further from subspace.

‘Alright, 15 minutes are up. You managed to stay still, despite your hands shifting slightly, but I know you were trying and you can’t help but fidget.’

He grasped the leash and lowered it down. In turn, Sherlock’s breathing became that bit easier.

‘Thank you, Master.’

‘You can stay there. Just turn around. I’ll do this really quickly seeing as you’ve wasted enough time.’

‘Wasted- ah!’ John placed the lubed plastic rod to the tip of Sherlock’s cock, cutting off the last protest he was likely to make- till tomorrow at least. ‘I know your recovery time after a milking Sherlock. You’re cock shouldn’t be that sensitive anymore.’

‘N-No Master. C-Cold.’

‘Tough.’

Slowly but surely the Dom slid the thin plastic bendy sound inch by inch into his urethra. As the last ridge pushed into his cock, and the little ring was the only thing left, Sherlock felt himself tip over into subspace utterly and completely. A dopey smile spread across his face, and John smiled back. Bingo.

The cage was next, the sound filled him from the inside, but it was more like a liquid than a solid it was pliable and it didn’t take much effort for John to get his flaccid cock into the cage and attached it with the usual rings around his balls, not as tight as normal though. He clipped it onto the belt to stop it moving or shifting of its own accord. He knew Sherlock wouldn’t touch it now and he hadn’t even shifted his hands from their position behind his head.

‘On the bed than, Pet. I’ll make this quick.’

Sherlock shuffled over to the bed and pulled himself up, careful not to use his feet to get himself onto the soft mattress. He spun so his shoulders were pressed into the mattress and his ass was in the air.

The Dom knew it wouldn’t take long to open him up again as he pushed in a finger.

‘I’ll use the small one, Sherlock.’

‘Yes, Master.’ His voice was dreamy and far away.

John pushed the plug in easily and then set up the harness to join it all together. He wanted it to do its job and hold the plug in as well as connect to the cage, but he didn’t want it to chafe.

He patted his ass softly when he was done, ‘right, on the floor.’ The doctor grinned when his boy rolled out of bed and dropped to his knees beside his feet.

‘May I, Master?’ he asked.

‘May you what, Boy?’

‘Suck your cock Master?’ John chuckled.

‘Would that please you, Boy?’

‘If it pleases you, Master.’

‘No, I asked if it pleased you.’

‘Yes, Master, very much so.’ ‘

Go and do the washing up and tidy the kitchen, if you impress me then you can suck me. How does that sound?’

‘Whatever my Master wants.’

John snorted. He was not used to such an obedient pet. Let alone such an obedient detective, his own detective. As much as he loved Sherlock mouldable, he preferred him wilful. But this was part of the course, there was no point it being full submission if he wasn’t respectable to a larger extent than normal and there was no point it being full submission if his boy could just do what he wanted in between when he wasn’t needed.

‘To the kitchen with you then, Boy. Breakfast isn’t going to clean up itself.’

‘Yes, Master.’ Sherlock shuffled out of the room and John couldn’t help but kick his ass gently as he went passed.

The sub wasn’t the only one in the right headspace. John could feel his own taking over, which was something he almost definitely needed. It hadn’t happened in so long. He grabbed his book from the side and headed through to the living room. ‘Oh and, Boy, bring me a coffee.’ He heard a distant, ‘Yes, Master,’ and smiled.

There was a splash as his pet dropped something in the sink and then he heard the signs of the kettle being boiled and the cupboard opening before he drifted off into his book.

 

When John came out of his book the coffee was on the table. He reached for it and the cup was cold. He glanced at the clock before yelling at his sub. 90 minutes had passed. 90 minutes since he’d sent him into the kitchen. What the hell could he be doing? He couldn’t be causing trouble he was too far in subspace…

He swung the kitchen door open to see Sherlock on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor, perfectly content.

John recalled his words, _do the washing up and tidy up the kitchen and then he had offered a reward_ , a reward Sherlock would do anything for on a normal day let alone when submission was making the decisions.

‘Hey, Pet! I think you’ve done enough of that.’

Sherlock looked up. He had certainly over exerted himself. His face was filthy with sweat. ‘M-Master?’

‘Yup.’

He handed him a cloth. ‘You’ve been working hard. I think I might give you that reward I promised you.’

The dopey grin was back and he took the cloth wiping his face quickly. John leant back against the unit. ‘Get me out then.’

‘Yes, Master,’ Sherlock said enthusiastically.

He raised his hands and John slapped them away.

‘No, Boy, use your teeth. You know how this works.’

‘Yes, Master. Sorry, Master.’ Sherlock made quick work of his Dom’s jeans and tugged the zip down. The doctor had no pants on and Sherlock looked up to meet blue eyes staring down at him. ‘I can’t help it. You kneeling naked and scrubbing the floor is hot.’

The comment seem to go straight to Sherlock’s cock. Subspace or not it would be painful. His breath hitched as he remained on top of the noise that had been brewing in his throat.

‘You’re about to suck my cock, Boy. Make all the noises you want.’

‘Thank you, Master.’ John almost immediately regretted giving his sub permission to make noises when he engulfed his already hard cock. He should have seen it coming really. He knew his sub got hard extremely quickly when sucking his cock and his own length was trapped in a metal cage with its own intrusion. Sherlock had been concentrating on the floor he had been scrubbing before his Dom had come in. The cage hadn’t bothered him then. He had been soft and although he could feel the bendy tube inside him, none of it had been irritating until now. He moaned and gurgled around the doctor’s cock and then felt a sharp tug in his hair.  

‘Faster, Boy.’ He obediently swallowed him down and then withdrew before going again.

‘That’a boy,’ John mumbled as he pulled his detective off his softening length.

Sherlock gasped as he regained his kneeling position.

‘Put the kettle on.’ The cage shifted as he moved to the kettle but he didn’t complain. He wasn’t really 100% sure that his cock was hurting. It was like the feeling couldn’t penetrate into his bubble.

‘And it's way past lunch time. Half way through the day.’ He ruffled Sherlock’s curls. ‘Your brother will be here at 1:30 tomorrow and when you've finished with that i believe the paddle awaits you.'


	20. Suited and Booted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr 
> 
> I had intended on the boys getting to the manor in this chapter but it was just getting too long, so the next one, I promise!

Sherlock awoke Sunday morning to a warm mouth engulfing his cock. He yelped and shuffled up the bed, hitting the back of his head on the headboard.

‘Master?’ he stuttered. His Dom was sat on his knees between his legs, hovering suspiciously. He was still in his cage and here John was sucking him through it!

The Dom grinned. ‘Full submission is over, Pet.’

Sherlock groaned in delight and even more so as the doctor lifted his hips up and unbuckled the belt around his waist. He wiggled the cage off his cock and Sherlock’s head fell back against the wall.

‘This’ll tingle, Babe, but you know how it works.’

He began pulling the sound from the tip of his cock and Sherlock whimpered. ‘I-I’m pretty sure you’re not meant to leave it in all night.’

John laughed. ‘You fell asleep on me last night and I wasn’t waking you up pulling it out after the day you’d had. It did take you an incredibly long time to go under if you remember?’

‘Yes, Sir, I remember, but before you say anything, no I did not fight it.’

‘No, I gathered. You tend to not go under at all when you fight it. I’m going to wash these. I’ll be back.’

John was at the door to the en suite before Sherlock managed to get the words out, ‘You’re just going to leave me? Rock hard?’

‘Hold the headboard. Do not let go. I’ll finish you off when I get back.’

‘Yes, Sir,’ Sherlock sighed.

The evil grin he got in response was not what he had hoped for, so he drifted back to what had happened yesterday. He had given John another two blow jobs throughout the day whenever the Dom had felt like it. He had spent the majority of the day knelt in the middle of the room whilst John puttered about. At about 3.30, John had a call on his mobile. He was rather annoyed that he had agreed to cover on call this weekend, but he had promise. He would only be gone an hour, so Sherlock had knelt. And waited. And waited until John had got home. Then he had moved to his usual spot beside the doctor’s chair and relaxed against his knee for the majority of the evening.

Sherlock’s reminiscing was interrupted by John returning from the bathroom.

‘I distinctly remember telling you to hold the headboard.’

Sherlock jerked in surprise and realised his hands had been drumming absently on his naked chest.

‘Sorry, Sir. Thinking.’

‘You’re always thinking, you prat. That’s what you do. You don’t usually disobey me whilst you’re thinking.’

‘I was thinking about yesterday, Sir. I guess I’m out of ‘space now.’

‘I do too. Now, for disobeying me, you have a choice.’

‘You’re not seriously going to punish me for it are you? It’s not like I jerked myself off. Sir.’

‘Since when was disobeying me ok, Pet?’

John was right. It didn’t matter how minor the point was. ‘It’s not, Sir. I’m sorry.’

‘Good. Now your choice. Wait until we get back from your parents before you get off or kneel in the corner for 15 minutes and then we can continue.’

‘That is one hell of a decision, Sir.’He glanced down to his cock that was still hard. ‘If I wait until we get home, will you remove the plug now?’

‘No.’

‘I’ll go in the corner, Sir.’

He scooted off the bed and wandered to ‘his’ corner before kneeling down and raising his hands.

‘Good boy.’ John set the timer on his phone for 15 minutes and tidied the room up a bit while the clock ticked down.

When it buzzed against the unit, Sherlock sighed in relief, but wasn’t stupid enough to lower his hands or move in any other way.

‘Come on then, Babe. Hop up here.’

Sherlock had never looked so enthusiastic before he scrambled off the floor and dragged himself up onto the bed. He rolled over and grabbed the headboard, his legs spread wide. John laughed. ‘You want me to suck you then, do you?’

Sherlock’s mouth twisted guiltily. ‘D’uh.’

‘How elegant, my beautiful little sub.’ With that he leant down and swallowed him whole. Sherlock would have found it amusing that John, the Dom in their relationship could swallow a cock just as well as he could, and he had practiced to get that good, if it wasn’t for the fact he was in intense pleasure mode and the moan he let escape was guttural.

 

‘Would he want you to act as an equal, status wise?’

‘You mean would he want me to fake being a Dom?’

‘Yes…’

‘Would you even allow it?’

They were in the kitchen. Sherlock was sat chomping on some scones Mrs. Hudson had dropped in earlier as John went about tea and toast.

John was slightly surprised at the question. ‘If it would make things easier for you, Pet. Of course I would.’

‘Well, it won’t.’

John paused where he was by the kettle and turned to face his sub.

‘Are you going to be difficult until half 1?’

‘Probably. And beyond.’

John sighed. ‘Do you want to spend the entire morning in the corner? You’ve already been there once this morning, after all.’

He huffed and shook his head. ‘No, Sir.’

‘Then stop being a prat.’ He went back to the kettle and at the same time flicked the toaster down.

‘I can’t help it, Sir. I just want Mycroft to be here.’

John had to hold his breath to stop himself spluttering in surprise.

‘You- you want your brother?’

He turned and placed toast and a cup of tea in front of him.

‘I understand we need to do this and I know you want to meet them and that we should have done it sooner, but Mycroft… He understands. He’s always been there and I know you would have been if you could but-’

‘He’s your brother.’

Sherlock nodded, glad he didn’t have to finish the sentence himself.

John grasped him by his collar and pulled him up to his feet. Sherlock was expecting a kiss, but instead John pulled him into his own body and held him tight. Sherlock didn’t do this sort of emotional very often, but when he did, the Dom always saw him as vulnerable, not something either of them enjoyed. ‘Of course I would have been there and I’m glad, no I’m more than glad you are getting along with Mycroft.’

‘I can sense a “but” coming.’

‘No, there’s no “but” coming. I just want you to know that you’ve got me now as well as Mycroft.’

‘I know, Sir. And you’re right. It might not be that bad…’

He said the words, but John could tell he didn’t really believe them. Not one bit.

‘So will you acting as a Dom help?’

‘Nope. Father will want me to be the perfect little submissive. He’ll be at me straight away the second I step over the line.’

‘You barely step over the line anymore. And when you do, you accept it and learn. I’m ignoring this past week in saying that, though, Pet.’

‘It won’t be your line, Sir. It will no doubt cause tension and Mycroft will intervene… or mummy will.’

‘How strict is he?’

‘Very. At least he was when we were growing up. I was always in trouble. Mycroft was the perfect heir to the manor. I thought he was going to disown me when I ended up in rehab. Mycroft was always there though, always fixed things. Me and Mycroft are closer than anyone really knows. Well, I think you and Greg have probably worked that out by now. He was always, and I mean always, there for me. Father is alright with Greg because Mycroft is the Dom. I don’t know about me, but he should be alright with you.’

‘Will he make you kneel for dinner? I know how much you hate that at the best of times.’

Sherlock looked awkward for a moment. ‘If you make it abundantly clear you, as my Dom, don’t want it, I don’t think he will force it. At least, he doesn’t with Greg.’

‘So your father's the Dom in your parents relationship and makes your mother kneel?’

‘No.’

‘Then your mother. But how does he get away with-’

‘No, they’re both switches.’

‘Is that good or bad?’

Sherlock munched on a piece of toast, ‘Sometimes I wonder.’

 

John found his detective an hour later, already about to get in the shower.

‘Bit early to be getting ready isn’t it, Pet?’

‘No, Sir,’ he nodded at the suits hanging up, one hidden by the other.

‘When did they appear?’

‘You were asleep last night, Sir. One of Mycroft’s men knocked and I didn’t want to wake you.’

‘You’re going to be like a mini-Mycroft.’ John laughed. ‘I haven’t seen you in a tie since I collared you.’

Sherlock smirked. ‘I don’t like them. In fact I hate them. What’s wrong with my shirt and shoes?’

‘Is that a waistcoat?’

‘That’s it, Sir. Make fun of me.’ He grabbed John by the hand and tugged him into the already warm shower. John would have found it cute if it wasn’t for the fact he was still fully clothed in the shirt he had fallen asleep in and a pair of jeans. The only thing unclothed were his feet.

‘Sherlock?!’ He yelled, smacking the back of his head as they both fell into the wall. John only just managed to close the curtain before water flooded the floor and annoyed Mrs. Hudson downstairs. ‘I like this shirt!’

‘So do I, Sir, but it is no use for tonight.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Your suit is under mine.’

‘My su- You know I am starting to regret this.’ Sherlock tugged at his Dom’s shirt and only gave him enough time to undo the top two buttons before he was pulling the shirt over his head and throwing it over the curtain. It landed with a squelch the other side.

‘I could always cancel-’

‘No chance, Pet.’

Sherlock’s shoulders slouched. ‘Hadn’t you better take off your jeans, Sir?’

He didn’t respond verbally, but put his hands on his shoulders and pushed down. The sub automatically dropped to his knees in front of his Dom. Then John dropped his pants and got rid of them.

He lathered his hands up and massages his pet's scalp. ‘You’re the perfect height for this,’ John said when he was rinsing it.

‘There’s something else I am the perfect height for sir.’

‘Pet-’

The kneeling detective lurched forward and grabbed the doctor’s cock in his mouth, sucking intently. ‘Sh-Sherlock! I thought you said we haven’t got time for this?’

He attempted to speak around his Dom’s cock, knowing it would just be vibrations and knowing that John wouldn’t force him off once the vibrations had made him hard. Instead, he grasped his curls and tugged him forward.

He choked slightly, but a smile was almost clear and John grinned. ‘I think you can do better than that.’

Sherlock poked his tongue into the slit at the head of his cock and John groaned.

‘That’s my boy.’

 

Once Sherlock had returned the favour, standing up, he hurried out of the shower and told his Dom to wait. At the raised eyebrow from John, he added a cute and innocent, ‘Please, Sir.’

John couldn’t help but laugh at his expression and his tone of voice, but nodded at the little puppy dog eyes in front of him. He doubted he could move through the giggles anyway.

He was gone a matter of minutes. When he returned he scooped his Dom up with obscene strength and carried him through into the bedroom, both of them were still dripping wet. He dumped him on the be from shoulder height and he bounced in an undignified heap on the towel Sherlock had already laid out on the bed.

John was still laughing as Sherlock began to dry his feet, he attempted to kick him off. ‘T-ticklish.’

‘I know.’

‘Well that was an experience,’ the Dom muttered when he finally managed to gain control of his laughter. ‘What in the hell made you do that?’

He shrugged, ‘Just sprung to mind. Thought it would be funny.’

‘I thought you would have been tense as hell, given these last few days.’

Sherlock swallowed awkwardly and contemplated deep throating the doctor again just to make sure he didn’t have to reply. He glanced at the clock and knew he didn’t really have time for round two as it was going to take a while for them to get ready.

‘Compensating, Sir,’ he said at last.

When he was done drying him off, John grabbed him and flipped him over so he could return the courtesy.

Realising his sub had fallen silent, he studied him for a moment. He was looking at the suits with something that could only be described as dread.

‘It won’t be that bad, Pet. I’ll be there and so will Mycroft and Greg.’

‘It will, Sir. It’ll be awful.’

‘Is that why you didn’t want them there when I collared you?’

‘Father would have no doubt ruined it. Mycroft and Greg were plenty.’

‘If it’s as bad as you seem to think, I will make it up to you.’

Sherlock was intrigued. ‘How, Sir?’

‘I don’t know, but I will think of something. What about fishing?’ he asked suddenly.

Sherlock frowned at the random question then blew a raspberry like a child. ‘Me? Fishing? Who are you and what have you done with my Dom?’

John laughed. ‘It would be a good chance to relax.’

‘I don’t need to relax, Sir. I’m fine.’

‘You’re not. You’ve been wrapping that towel around your fingers absently for the last few minutes, so either you’re tense or your fingers are continuously leaking water that need constant drying. Now, as a doctor, I know that the latter is a medical impossibility.’

‘Alright Einstein.’

‘I was under the impression you called me Sir, not Einstein.’

Sherlock shrugged from his awkward position and tilted his head on one side. ‘That I do, Sir.’

Sherlock collapsed back against the bed beside his Dom and they both stared at the ceiling until they were both distracted by their phones going off simultaneously. Sherlock reached for both and gave John his.

‘They’ll be here in an hour,’ they said together.

‘Mycroft,’ Sherlock muttered.

‘Nope. Greg. I suppose we’d better get dressed then.’


	21. Into Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock could be lucky, maybe his father will ignore him? Or maybe not…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go guys the initial meeting, there's plenty to come but I figured you would prefer short and now then long and in a long time!
> 
> Beta read by sherlockian4evr

The first thing Mycroft heard from inside 221B was his brother.

‘… I don’t like wearing a tie! Why do I have to wear one?’ Sherlock was doing a very good impression of a whining toddler, just like he did as a child. How did John cope?

‘I suppose because your brother said so, isn’t good enough?’

Sherlock must have pulled an unknown face as they couldn’t hear the response. At Greg’s laugh. Mycroft glared at his sub, but he couldn’t quell it.

‘I- I’m sorry, Sir, but has John really managed to get him into a tie?’

The Dom tilted his head on one side, seeing the funny aspect of what Greg had just said. ‘Good point, Pet.’

‘-What about because I say so?’ John continued.

They saw the detective sigh as Greg pushed the door open.

John had indeed managed to get the childlike detective into what should have resembled a tie, except it had been pulled down and was practically hidden behind the waistcoat that had only been half done up.

‘Oh, brother dear, you always did hate looking smart.’

‘It’s not looking smart, Mycroft. It’s sucking up.’

‘So you’ve been “sucking up” every visit we’ve had with our parents over the last 20 years.’

‘No I just- I look fine in my usual suit. You’re the posh arrogant one.’

‘Whoa,’ John interrupted, raising his hands. ‘I think the pair of you share the arrogance. Now can we go?’

‘Of course, once my brother has sorted himself out.’

The glare Sherlock sent in Mycroft’s direction was sharp enough to draw blood. John clipped him on the back of the head and he ducked it sheepishly. He glanced at the older Holmes brother and muttered, ‘Sorry,’ as John went back to fiddling with his suit.

‘Oh, and John, you’ll need this.’ He held out the leash he had snagged on the way passed the hook.

Sherlock’s shoulders slouched. ‘I don’t want it,’ he complained.

Well, there went John’s plan to get him to wear it in public all the time.

Mycroft held his tongue, knowing that the doctor was more than equipped to deal with his baby brother when he was in brat mode or any mode, in fact.

Greg glanced at his Dom and the leash connecting them. It never bothered him, but he could understand why Sherlock didn’t like it. It was constricting, but it was no trouble for Mycroft to unhook it or just let it go if they wanted to do separate things.

‘This can go one of two ways, Boy. You let me clip this to your collar and we walk out of here now or I can take you into the other room, throw you over my lap and then clip this to your collar and you can sit through your parents’ with a sore arse.’

The detective took a bit too long to decide and John shoved him towards the bedroom. ‘No, no, no, wait, Sir.’

‘You’ll let me…’

Swallowing awkwardly, Sherlock nodded. ‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Good.’ He glanced at his fellow Dom as he connected the leash to the collar around his sub’s throat. He had a look of approval gracing his features before he glanced at his own sub and indicated the door.

John and Sherlock followed the others, but the doctor rested his hand on the detective’s shoulder squeezed slightly. ‘That is the last time you push me today. Is that understood?’ He whispered quietly, but no less dangerously. It was quite clearly a threat.

Sherlock nodded. ‘Yes, Sir,’ he repeated.

 

In the car on the way over, Sherlock was incredibly quiet and had insisted on sitting on John’s lap after the Dom had put his foot down and said he was not kneeling when he had taken half an hour to get the sod into his suit in the first place and all kneeling would achieve was scuff marks.

Greg had his head resting on his own Dom’s shoulder and was tracing patterns on his knee with his finger.

‘Is there anything I should be warned about, Mycroft?’ John asked the older brother. Sherlock wasn’t going to be much use in this matter.

‘I would say just keep my brother under control.’

‘I’m not a dog,’ Sherlock spat.

Mycroft raised an unimpressed eyebrow and John tugged at the leash. ‘Be quiet, Sherlock.’

‘He has tendencies to goad our father. Stop that happening, and he will love you like another son.’

Sherlock stuck his tongue out at his older brother. ‘I wouldn’t hold out too much hope, John.’

The second smack in a couple of minutes came and Sherlock looked out of the window, wondering if he was going to get a headache from all of the smacks.

‘I told you that you would not push me anymore, today. If I have to speak to you about your behaviour again, I will put you over my knee, wherever we are. Have you got that?’

The only response was the gentle thud of the detective’s head against the window.

Sighing, the doctor used the leash to pull him off his lap and into the seat opposite, seeing as Greg had the middle seat, and frankly deserved it more than the younger man did.

‘Answer me Sherlock! I will not hesitate to humiliate you.’

Sherlock caught his Dom’s eye. He hated to humiliate him in public, but he would do it if it needed to be done, and there was nothing Sherlock could do to defend himself if he had been given a fair warning. The only thing he could do was behave. ‘Yes, Sir,’ he said eventually.

 

Sherlock dawdled up the garden path to his parents’ manor as slowly as possible. The two Doms shared gazes and Mycroft nodded, silently saying he would deal with it. A few months ago John would have been hesitant, but he trusted Mycroft enough now, especially after that case with the serial rapist.

Greg kept up with John and they spoke quietly, even as Mycroft pulled his brother to a halt by a hand on his shoulder. ‘It won’t be that bad, ‘Lock.’

He just glared at him and didn’t dignify it with a response, but the British Government prevented him from stropping off.

‘I don’t want to be here, Myc. I hate it here.’

‘For John?’

‘I would do anything for John. That is, after all, the only reason I am here in the first place.’

‘I won’t let anything happen, ‘Lock, I promise.’

Sherlock took a deep breath and knew that Mycroft meant it. ‘For John,’ he said quietly.

Said Dom glanced over as they had reached the door and Greg knocked. Mycroft took hold of his sub’s leash as did John even as he asked, ‘Alright, Pet?’

‘Yes, Sir. The quicker this is over, the better-’

The door swung inwards to reveal Mrs. Holmes. She grinned broadly at the sight of her boys and despite her height being a fair bit shorter than all four of the men on the doorstep, she managed to grab hold of both brothers, declaring, ‘Mycroft! Sherlock!’ quite loudly.

Sherlock pulled free as quickly as he could and retreated to the reasonably safe area of his Dom. Mycroft glared at him as this meant she had her eldest son to herself, momentarily at least.

Feeling guilty, the detective felt it best to interrupt her by introducing his Dom.

‘Mummy, this is my Dom, Doctor John Watson.’

By the look on her face, she had been aware of Sherlock’s relationship, but had not heard it said as openly as that, especially from her youngest… ‘Dom? Has he…’ she trailed off, unsure how to word it.

With a glance at the doctor, who squeezed his hand briefly in reassurance, Sherlock tugged his scarf free and pulled it over his neck, revealing his collar as well as his suit. John had bought him a deep red collar for special occasions, which had the amazing ability to suit the detective as well as anything he may wear with it.

Mrs. Holmes stared up at her son for an extremely long while and Sherlock tensed, reaching back for John’s hand. Maybe he overestimated his mother’s kindness, but then he realised he hadn’t miscalculated at all as her face broke out into a wide grin. ‘Why didn’t you say, Sherlock?’

‘I, um…’ His response was cut short (not like he knew what to say anyway), as she grabbed him in a hug. This time, producing a short laugh from Mycroft, who was glad the hugging hadn’t stopped at her getting him on his own.

Mr. Holmes appeared behind his wife, ‘Because he knew I would disapprove.’

The detective released his grip on his mother and stepped back into John’s bubble again. His bubble offered protection… offered comfort. He felt his Dom’s hand at his lower back and saw Mycroft move towards him out of the corner of his eye. It had been years since he’d seen him last. Maybe his father would be different now he was in a relationship that worked and had proven to make Sherlock more “human”. It would be fine. He had John, and Mycroft and even Greg, who could arrest him if things got too much. That thought alone brought him enough courage to introduce his Dom to the other half of his parents.

‘Father, this is John.’

‘I know who he is, Sherlock. I watch the news,’ he snapped at his youngest, not even hiding his surprise at the politeness.

He swallowed awkwardly. ‘Sorry, father.’

John stepped forward and held his hand out, pleasantly surprised when the older man shook it. ‘It is good to meet you at long last, Doctor Watson, even if my son has kept you away.’

Sherlock was getting smaller and smaller despite the fact that he was quite easily the tallest out of the six. Thankfully Mycroft intervened. ‘Father?’ He held his own hand out and the glare Mr. Holmes had been pointing at the detective moved and softened slightly at his eldest. Sherlock had lowered his head, not in the mood for an argument.

‘Mycroft and Gregory, you are both looking well.’

Mycroft inclined his head and Greg nodded in acknowledgement, ‘Yes, Sir. You do too.’

‘Well, come on lads,’ Mrs. Holmes interrupted the tense awkwardness that seemed to have fallen around them and not a moment too soon either.

Mycroft followed his father, who had disappeared into the house, his hand loosely wrapped in Greg’s.

Sherlock paused on the step, but John didn’t get the chance to change his mind as the switch tugged her son's hand as well as her son’s Dom’s hand and led them in a different direction in which the other three had gone.

‘Would you like a drink, Doctor Watson?’

‘Yes, a cup of tea would be lovely, thank you. And it’s John. I get enough of “Doctor Watson” at work.’

‘Where do you work?’

She led them through into the kitchen and immediately flicked the kettle on. At once, John was nearly too distracted by the smells wafting through from the other room to be able to answer coherently.

‘All over really. I work at St. Bart’s, occasionally, and the local surgery over by Baker Street most of the week, that’s if I’m not chasing this one across London. It also means I am close to him, if need be.’

Mrs. Holmes indicated a chair for the doctor and turned to wrap her arms around her son.

‘Mummy, please!’ Sherlock squeaked indignantly.

‘Be nice, Pet,’ John ordered softly. He thought it would be weird giving Sherlock an order here, but in front of Mrs. Holmes, it seemed like the natural thing to do. In front of Mr. Holmes, he could see it becoming an issue. He just hoped his brat wouldn’t do anything that demanded a reprimand or if he did, he hoped he did it out of sight so the correction could take place at home. His sub hugged his mother back until the older woman was ready to let go and not forced to end the show of affection she clearly felt for her youngest son. When she was done the doctor reached up and snagged his hand out of the air, tugging him down into his lap.

‘Are you having tea too, Sherlock?’

He nodded, not really paying any attention, but John smacked his thigh. ‘Please, Mummy.’

‘I can see having you around is going to make this somewhat easier, John.’

‘Well, you can be a terror. Can’t you Sherlock?’

‘Yes, Sir.’ he grinned up at his Dom, unaware of the raised eyebrows coming from over by the kettle. She couldn’t believe the calm response that came from her son, especially given the fact he had been teased. He was even polite. Well, this was definitely a turn in events.


	22. Not Such A Bad Egg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day continues and what is that childish feud about?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr
> 
> One last chapter after this one guys! :(

What felt to Sherlock to be several hours was in fact only one or two. The whole group were sat around the table. The elder Holmeses sat opposite each other but the sons were sat next to their respective partners in the middle. Sherlock, of course, was bored and had brought up an old conversation with his brother.

It hadn’t taken long at all for John to recognise the destructive path his sub was on and when he glanced in the direction of Mycroft, he inclined his head slightly, answering the question John would ask if he could do it telepathically. He knew he needed to put a stop to this before it got out of control. At the moment it was a harmless conversation, but it could turn nasty and it was likely Sherlock would be the one effected by it.

No one but Mycroft noticed the hand disappear beneath the table. John had been so subtle that if the government official hadn’t been looking in his direction, he wasn’t sure even he would have caught the movement. Sherlock felt its effects, after a particular comment which would turn the conversation around. The detective’s thigh was suddenly crushed beneath the doctor’s hand and he had to bite his tongue in order to hide his whimper. John was glad. It would have been an awkward conversation if Mr. Holmes had spotted it, specifically because it looked like the Dom was grabbing his sub’s bollocks at the dinner table.

The detective took a deep breath and looked across the table to his brother. He waited for the conversation to pause momentarily before saying, ‘Sorry, Myc. That was uncalled for.’ He spoke quietly, but it was more than enough for both the Doms at the table. John squeezed his thigh again, this time softer, reassuring as well as a silent “well done”.

The four youngest were not at all surprised to hear the apology from the army doctor’s sub, but his parents were, even Mrs. Holmes who had already seen a difference in the younger of her two boys, it hadn’t been on this level though. She couldn’t remember him ever apologising of his own back since the age of 5 and even then, he only ever apologised to Mycroft. The only way to get through to him had been punishment, but that had led to resentment between Mr. Holmes and the youngest. Since the boys had moved out, they’d barely put up with each other in the same room so this was such an unusual experience. They had been so close as children. She didn’t really know what had happened. What she did know was that it was nice to just have a normal family meal for a change without the arguments or Sherlock sulking and playing his violin from dawn to dusk.

Mr. Holmes stood up suddenly. He had stayed right out of the way since meeting the doctor, but John hadn’t taken offence. In fact, he was glad. He was for too brash with his son, the sharp looks and the hisses when he opened his mouth to speak. Sherlock didn’t stand a chance now, so he certainly hadn’t done growing up. When they’d come into the dining room Sherlock had received a glared that would have given Mycroft competition and he was quite accomplished in the art of speaking a whole sentence silently, and he had gone to take a seat beside his Dom. John had stopped the imminent argument, though, when he cleared his throat. Sherlock had stood immediately and pulled the chair out for his Dom. Now though, now Mr. Holmes reached for John’s hand and began pumping it vigorously so that he forced the doctor to stand up as well.

‘Congratulations, Doctor Watson. You’ve instilled a decorum of manners into my youngest.’

John didn’t quite know what to say. It was the first time the older man had really spoken to him and he could see where Mycroft got his arrogant attitude from at times, and Sherlock for that matter. He glanced at Sherlock whose head was bowed low. John knew his sub well enough to know he was worried and gnawing on his bottom lip. Maybe an apology that had come from him without a previous argument or hesitancy was all the elder had needed from Sherlock to prove he could function as a normal member of society. He said, ‘It was my pleasure, Mr. Holmes. He certainly presents a challenge at times.’ Despite the newfound friendless between the pair, John thought it best to mention Sherlock’s unruly behaviour and was surprised further when his brat had the courage to look up, smile and add, ‘You like the challenge, Sir.’

‘Sherlock!’ his father admonished immediately, not waiting to see how John would react.

The detective flinched and John took his hand as he sat down, ‘I’m sorry, Sir.’

John wasn’t overly impressed with the older man telling him off, but he let it go. This time. ‘That’s alright, Pet. You are right, though. I do enjoy the challenge. Life would be incredibly boring without it.’

He received a suspicious look that he noticed out of the corner of his eye as he faced his pet, but for now the older man seemed satisfied that his youngest had indeed been tamed.

‘John, where is my brother?’ Mycroft asked a long while later. They had all finished a while ago and were just making pleasant and not awkward at all conversation. Mr. Holmes was talking to the DI about his detective work, and it appeared to John that the older man did have a fascination with Greg’s job and the met in general. Most of his questions were based around New Scotland Yard. Greg seemed to, despite everything, get on with the eldest Holmes.

The doctor glanced around and shrugged. ‘He said he was going to the toilet, but come to think of it that was a while ago.’

‘How long’s a while?’

‘About 20 minutes.’

‘Damn him,’ he grumbled. He turned his back on his fellow Dom and squeezed his sub’s knee as he made his excuses and disappeared.

John watched in apparent confusion as the British Government went off in search of his brother.

From the second John had said he’d been a while, Mycroft knew where his baby brother was. That was why he snuck into the expansive kitchen and grabbed the little bugger by the scruff of his neck. It was a good job the kitchen was the other side of the manor. It meant their parents were a fair distance away and they wouldn’t have been able to hear the noise that Sherlock elicited at his brother’s grip.

‘Myc-’ he gasped.

‘Give me the coco pops bowl,’ he growled lowly in Sherlock’s ear, lifting his brother higher so he choked. It was all in play and Sherlock knew that, but it didn’t help the situation.

‘I haven’t got it, Myc.’ He raised his hands above his head.

He spun him into the nearest wall and his flailing arm that was attempting to push him back from the hard surface was grabbed and twisted up his back. He grunted in surprise when he didn’t get enough purchase on the wall to not collide into it.

‘Lockie…’ his tone was threatening, despite the use of the childhood nick name.

Mycroft grabbed his other arm, twisting it into the same position, ‘I can’t find it, brother. I swear.’

‘I don’t believe you brother mine.’

Sherlock struggled not to fight as, given his current position, he wouldn’t win and they both knew it. ‘Please, My. I’ve been looking forever.’

‘Did you come straight here?’

Sherlock ignored the question and then yelped in pain when Mycroft pushed his arm further up his back. ‘No, Myc. I went to the toilet first. I don’t lie to my Dom.’

‘That’s good to know, little brother,’ Mycroft was oddly surprised at the pride he felt for the boy he had grown up so close to.

‘Are you going to let me go or not?’

‘No.’

‘I swear, Myc. Search me.’

Mycroft waited a few heartbeats longer, pondering, before he took a step back. He only release one hand, though and used his now free one to search Sherlock’s, suit. Satisfied, he released him.

Sherlock shook his suit out and tugged at it indignantly, going so far as to straighten his tie. ‘Seriously, Myc. You force me into this bloody thing and then you ruin it by throwing me into the wall once I’ve got it on.’

‘Has mummy hidden it, do you think?’

Sherlock shrugged, ‘Possibly… Probably.’

‘No probably about it. Almost definitely.’

Sherlock went back to going through the cupboards, the task he had undertaken before his brother’s interruption.

‘What are you doing, little brother. I thought you said you couldn’t find it?’

‘You searched me, idiot. You know I can’t.’

‘Then what are you doing?’

‘If we take some of mummy’s best china. We could crack a deal, get it back from wherever she’s hidden it from.’

‘“Crack a deal”? What are you brother-mine? 10?’

‘Leave off, Myc. I want that bowl!’

‘It’s mine!’ the older man countered.

‘No, it was mine when you went to Cambridge.’

‘It is still mine.’

‘No!’

‘There was that boy when you stole it and took it to school that time and he stole it from you. Did that make it his?’

‘Of course not!’

‘Then it is not yours, little brother. It is mine.’

Sherlock growled, deep in his throat, then smiled broadly. Mycroft realised with a lump in his throat what an amazing man his little brother had truly become. He wasn’t arrogant or repulsive, as he had once been. He now actually wanted to spend time with him, something he never wanted to do aside from spending time with Gregory. He had never seen him so happy and he regretted not seeing the positive effect that having John in his life had had.

‘Can we steal her best china anyway?’

‘Father will be furious.’

‘You’re such a stick in the mud,’ Sherlock tormented.

‘Well, we could rearrange the room; at least inside the cupboards.’

Sherlock grinned, but it was chased off his face by a frown. ‘I would get the blame.’

‘I don’t know about that, brother-mine. Father has seen what a fully functioning member of society you are now.’

‘It has only taken him 35 years and he literally stopped being an idiot 30 minutes after meeting John.’

Sherlock took some dishes out of the cupboard and wandered around the room, set on switching them around if they weren’t going to steal them for blackmail material.

The older brother sighed, but he knew what his little brother meant. He ruffled his curls, something he hadn’t frequented since they were children. He took one of the plates he had from his hands.

They were busy moving everything around, giggling and laughing like they had so many years ago. They were going as far as pushing and shoving each other out of the way. They had managed to move quite a bit around and then-

‘Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes!’

Both men flinched and spun around at the sound of their mother’s voice coming from the kitchen doorway, at the same time hiding the crockery they held at the small of their backs to keep it from view.

‘My best china is for eating from, not for you two to get your grubby little mitts all over.’

Damn, they’d left a plate out on the nearest unit.

‘It was Sherlock-’

‘It was Mycroft-’

‘Seriously, boys. Have you not grown up at all?’ she asked good-naturedly.

They both gave her their own version of a questioning look.

She pointed behind them where there was a large glass window. The reflective large glass window.

‘I am surprised you forgot about that, Sherlock, seeing as you went through it. Twice.’ She could see quite clearly the cup that Sherlock held and the plate that Mycroft did.

‘It was an experiment, I was-’

‘I was under the impression it was an accident both times?’ she folded her arms.

‘Er…’

‘Busted,’ Mycroft muttered.

‘You told her!’

‘I did not! I promised and I have never broken a promise to you, brother-mine.’

He looked back at his mother in time to see John appear at the door. Mycroft glared at him pointedly. He stepped into the room, but raised his hands in a placating gesture. ‘He is not being rude or breaking any rules, Myc. I am not going to interrupt and take him away so you can win the argument.’

Sherlock grinned like he had won the lottery.

‘It is still mine!’ the British Government protested.

‘No its mine!’

‘Are you two still arguing over that damned coco pops bowl?’ Their mother asked. 

‘No!’

‘No!’

‘Coco pops bowl?’ the doctor interrupted. It was clearly an old argument, but he wanted to at least know what it was about.

‘I was about 9. They were free in cereal boxes,’ the older brother explained.

‘So that made you 2, Sherlock. Yes?’

He glared at his Dom. ‘Yes, Sir.’

‘So it is Mycroft’s.’

Now Mycroft was the one to grin.

‘You’re supposed to be on my side, Sir.’

‘I’m not taking sides.’

‘He went to Cambridge when he was 16, so when I was 9, the bowl was mine!’

‘What I want to know,’ Mrs. Holmes came in. ‘Is why neither of you have found it.’

‘Because you hid it!’ Sherlock exclaimed.

‘Pet!’ John’s tone was warning enough.

He sighed and dropped his head, but Mycroft repeated it.

‘I haven’t seen the bloody thing in years. I was hoping the pair of you had forgotten about it.’

‘Well if you don’t have it, mummy. Who does?’

At that point, Mycroft’s sub appeared at the door. It was obvious he had been listening is if his guilty expression was anything to go by. Both brother came to the same conclusion at once and gave chase. The DI bolted out of the open double doors that led to the patio which in turn led to the bridge over the extensive pond and onto the acres and acres of grass.

John just laughed as he watched his sub and two closest friends go.

Mrs. Holmes, caught the doctor by surprise when she randomly grabbed him and crushed him in a bear hug, much like the one she had caught her sons in at the start of the afternoon.

‘You are the best thing that has ever happened to Sherlock, John. Did you know that?’

‘I, um… He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me actually, Mrs. Holmes.’

‘He must get in trouble all the time.’

‘Not at all. He used to, but the only time he tends to get into trouble now is when he rushes off at work.’

John deliberately skipped out the last week. He was partially responsible, even if Sherlock was out of order, and the full submission yesterday did seem to help.

‘Oh, he was always doing that. When he was 4, we were shopping Bristol whilst my husband was on a business trip. It was half term so we all travelled up together. Sherlock had been extremely disappointed when he found out we were going to Bristol and not Blackpool so he wandered off and got on a bus. Mycroft has always blamed himself because he let go of his hand. He had been so transfixed on our conversation he hadn’t realised the little terror was gone. He got on a bus and nobody stopped him. They just sat back and watched as my son got on 4 different buses to get to Blackpool. He wanted to go on the fair. That was when we first found out about that damned Mind Palace of his. He has the whole country mapped out in there.’

‘He has every street in London mapped out. And the speed he runs sometimes…’

She indicted over the bridge where the brothers had fought Greg off and were now fighting over the bowl. The DI had given up, clearly not willing to get between such a well-known fight. He wandered back to the house, still breathing heavily.

‘You’re supposed to be fit, Greg! Copper and all that.’

‘Mrs. Holmes, where do your children get their energy from?’ he leant against the door frame, rubbing his hands down his suit as if getting rid of any excess dirt. Bit late for that, he noted.

She chuckled lightly and watched her boys tumble together on the lawn, like brothers for once.

‘I would intervene, Love,’ she said to John. ‘If my husband spots them…’

Too late.

‘Sherlock! Mycroft!’

Both brothers froze on the lawn. Mycroft was on top, but Sherlock had the bowl. Both playful grins faded to be replaced by something that resembled fear.

‘Get up!’

Slowly, the older brother released the hand that he had had pinned beneath his knee and Sherlock sighed, wriggling his wrist.

‘You big lummox,’ Sherlock groaned, kicking his leg out to the side and aiming perfectly. The British Government’s legs flew out from beneath him and he landed squarely on his butt, grunting.

‘Nice move, little brother,’ Mycroft seemed genuinely impressed by his combat skills.

Suddenly the detective was on his feet, his collar rugged up tightly for the second time that day This time it was his father who had hold of him. ‘I told you to get up!’

‘But Myc’s on the floor too!’

The government official shook his head. He couldn’t believe the younger man was arguing. Had years of experience not taught him anything?’

‘Get up, Mycroft!’

 

Both boys smiled sheepishly at their partners as their father dragged them both in, unprotesting, by the collar.

John imagined that they had gone back in time to when they were kids, but it was weird to see Mycroft in such a position. With Sherlock it was almost… well, it looked normal. It was just even more comical with Mycroft. Seeing as the way the pair were around the bowl, his suspicions of it being an old argument were confirmed. A very old argument.

Mr. Holmes pushed Mycroft in the corner behind his mother and Sherlock in the corner the other side of the room.

‘This childish feud over the coco pops bowl has gone too far! Hands on your heads, noses to the wall, both of you. Yes, Mycroft. You are a Dominant. Are you going to argue with me?’

He turned back to face the corner. ‘No, Sir.’

‘John, you are my son’s Dominant. Have you got any arguments?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘Good. They can both stay there for an hour then.’

‘An hour-’

‘An hour-’

‘Yes, an hour!’

Yep, definitely an old argument!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was brought up on the stories of the coco pops bowl that my mum and uncle used to argue over, in fact they still do!


	23. Together Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's the end of my first published fic then guys and I'm super happy with the response. I hope I do the end justice!
> 
> Beta read by none other than sherockian4evr, of course.

John couldn’t help but sit in the rather comfy chair in the Holmes manor and chuckle. He caught sight of Greg the other side of the room and saw he was barely containing himself either. He had two knuckles wedged between his teeth and was biting down rather hard to stop himself from laughing out loud. 

John stared at the back of his sub’s head. He hadn’t moved an inch and for once in his life, his fingers were not twirling and getting tangled up within his mess of curls. There was no sign whatsoever that he had moved at all since Mr. Holmes had sat down. His nose was practically touching the corner, elbows were straight out, fingers interlocked. He glanced at his sub’s older brother and he was in exactly the same position, like it was well practiced by the pair. He was, however, a little tense. No doubt being punished by his father in front of his sub was a little more than humiliating for the government official. 

Mycroft could walk away from the wall and settle down next to the DI and he knew full well the elder Holmes wouldn’t say a word to undermine him if he did so. Sherlock could also do the same. If he had been in genuine distress John, would have intervened, of course he would have, but there was nothing unfair about the way the older man had treated his boys. John did exactly the same to his brat and Mycroft probably did the same with his own.

Mr. Holmes didn’t even look up from his book when an hour passed. ‘Alright boys, you can come out now.’

They both stared at one another across the room as soon as they turned around, but Mycroft, surprisingly, was the first to smirk, it was quickly followed by Sherlock’s.

Sherlock caught sight of his Dom. He was pointing at his feet, one eyebrow raised in question. Like Sherlock was really going to argue with him right now. He glanced at his father and shrugged. He held up one finger and headed towards the man that still hadn’t looked up from his book. Mycroft was doing the same.

‘Have you two finished being childish?’ Mr. Holmes’ glasses were on the edge of his nose, but he still didn’t look up. 

‘It really is my bowl, Father. If I could-’

Mr. Holmes held a hand up to cut his eldest son off. ‘Neither of you are getting the bowl. Now have you finished being childish?’

They both nodded.

‘Boys!’

‘Yes, Sir,’ they agreed after a glance at one another.

‘Then, Mycroft, go and deal with Gregory as he can barely contain himself and, Sherlock, it looks like your Dom would like a word.’ His tone was only slightly harsher talking to his youngest.

The detective glanced over his shoulder and glanced at his Dom. He was pointing at the floor again. Nodding at his father, he turned and took the few strides to the doctor and dropped to his knees beside him. 

‘You do realise, now I know you can stand in the corner without twitching for an entire hour, you have no excuses.’

‘But it’s different, Sir. You make me kneel.’

‘It’s not different at all and you know it.’ He laughed and ruffled his hair. ‘It’s not your feet that fidget. It’s your fingers.’

He opened his mouth to retort, but realised there wasn’t anything he could say in his defence. ‘Yes, Sir.’

Mr. Holmes was watching the pair of them, but the doctor in specific. He had something like admiration on his face at the way John could use one hand motion and his son would kneel. He didn’t rally him into an argument or punish him for comments that weren’t needed or could be classed as argumentative. He may get a scornful look or a smack on the back of the head, but eventually John always came out on top and Sherlock, more than he ever imagined possible, respected that and the Dom himself.

On the other side of the room, Mycroft had taken a seat where Greg had been sitting and the DI had dropped to his knees between his Dom’s legs, the side of his face resting against the his knee. The kneeling figure was nearly asleep as the older man carded a hand through the silver hair. 

Mycroft, however, was far from falling asleep. He was watching his father. He saw the look that told him it would be okay flitter across his face and couldn’t help but smile. 30 years he had been trying to convince him that Sherlock wasn’t what he made him out to be and that there was nothing wrong with being submissive. He just needed guidance. He just needed a Dom. He need John Watson.

‘Sir?’ 

He was brought from his thoughts as the DI’s head rubbed against his knee. He had lost track of the hand sliding in and out of his hair. He had even gone so far as to tickle the spot along his crown, knowing it made his pet dopey and pushed him into subspace.

‘Yes, Pet?’

‘You’re all muddy.’

Mycroft laughed, a deep chuckle. His boy could be such a child at times, especially on the verges of subspace. He cupped his cheek in his hand and leant forward to kiss him. ‘Yes, it was my baby brother’s fault!’

‘It was not!’ Sherlock protested loudly from his position on the floor beside his own Dom. John’s hand instinctively came down to settle at the nape of his neck. 

‘Settle, ‘Lock.’

Mr. Holmes was watching with curiosity. It was the first time he had seen Sherlock be reprimanded by his Dom without first some interference. This was it, the full on proof that he needed; he really didn’t need to interfere. John Watson had already worked wonders with the boy he had found uncooperative at the best of times. Maybe he really had got it wrong all those years ago. He wasn’t about to admit that though, but he would make it up to Sherlock. Somehow.

If they were asked, nobody knew how they ended up playing monopoly. But the 6 of them sat around the table a short while later doing just that. Sherlock and Mycroft had argued for over 10 minutes, annoying Mycroft further when John refused to interrupt considering his sub’s involvement. They had argued over who was going to be the dog for what felt like forever before Mrs. Holmes decided to interrupt, snatching it off the pair of them and pressing the two remaining pieces into their hands. The argument had gone on so long the others had gone around the board twice by the time the intervention occurred. 

‘Sherlock!’ John scolded mildly.

‘What?’

John sensed Mr. Holmes wanting to reprimand Sherlock, but he held off, which the doctor was extremely grateful for. Sherlock had character and his slight cheekiness in any situation was one of the main reasons John was attracted to the younger man in the first place. Stopping the comments, which he could if he wanted to, would not help either him nor Sherlock, and maybe, just maybe the eldest Holmes was realising that. 

‘You can’t collect 200, Pet.’

‘Why not? It says go to jail. You said if I pass go, I get to collect 200.’

‘But the card says not to collect 200.’

‘The card is wrong, Sir,’ he said with so much conviction that, had this been about a case, he would believe what he was saying as much as he seemed to believe it himself. 

‘It’s in the rules.’

‘The rules are wrong, too. You can’t actually get from where I was to jail unless you pass go. I’m an iron. It’s not like I can reverse.’

John chuckled. ‘Like you’d know what an iron does.’

Sherlock smiled and the Dom brought his hand up to cup the back of his neck, before Sherlock realised that it wasn’t for comfort he was bent double his head pressed into the table. 

‘Give the 200 back to the bank or I will tickle you so bad… well you know what happens when I tick you, don’t you, Brat?’ Having Mr. Holmes observe rather than get involved gave him the confidence to behave normally with his sub. That was a lot more than he could have hoped for a few days ago.

‘Yes, Sir,’ he held his hands out to the side, the 200 stashed neatly in one grip. 

‘Good boy.’

Mycroft laughed and reached over the table ruffling his hair, ‘Ickle Sherlock is all grown up.’

Sherlock scowled, but couldn’t help but smile at his older brother. ‘At least I know where father has hidden the bowl.’

‘Sherlock…’ Mr. Holmes started, but then saw the look on his face, the fear that flashed through his eyes. He smiled instead of continuing. He had a lot to make up for.

A couple of hours later saw both Holmes brothers crouched low and shifting across the room in stealth mode. Their target? The bowl Mr. Holmes had hold of loosely in one hand.

‘Come on, Pet,’ John said, taking Sherlock’s hand. ‘I think it’s time for bed.’

Mrs. Holmes smiled. ‘Your room is all set up, Sherlock dear. We’ve replaced your bed also.’

He smiled warmly and took John by surprise when he pulled from his grip and bent down to give her a hug. Mr. Holmes was still fast asleep.

‘And us,’ John heard Mycroft from across the room. He had Greg in his arms, seeing as he had drifted off, the DI’s head tucked under his chin. 

Mycroft headed off up the stairs first, shortly followed by the detective, dragging his Dom along by the hand.

As soon as John knew what room was his sub’s, he pushed the door open pulling him in. 

‘Night, Myc-’ Sherlock managed to call out before he was being lifted up and thrown on the bed.

‘How soundproof are these walls, Brat?’

‘It doesn’t matter, Sir. Mother and father's bedroom is on the second floor.’

John had recognised the amount of stairs there were around the place. God knows how Sherlock and his brother had found their way around as children. Maybe that’s why his pet had a Mind Palace. He had needed it to survive living around here.

‘And Mycroft’s is down the end of the corridor. The rooms are big enough that there is quite a distance from room to room.’ 

‘Did you invent your Mind Palace so you wouldn’t get lost?’

Sherlock smiled. ‘You already know the whole detective thing started when I was quite young. Well, I had no way of retaining things that I had seen or heard. When I got started, I realised that most of that information would be key. I just needed a way of finding it. Mycroft taught me how I could keep it all in my mind, inside my Mind Palace. It was just a case of finding it again once I'd stored it.’

The doctor grinned and reached for Sherlock’s tie. He tugged it free and wrapped it around his eyes. ‘You’re going to enjoy this, Babe.’

Sherlock heard the zipper of their case being opened and suddenly he felt the soft fur lined cuffs being placed around his wrists.

‘You packed them, Sir?’

‘I knew we’d spend the night, which is why I packed the case in the first place and I knew no matter how good or bad the day went, you’d need subspace. It appeares Greg already managed it hours ago.’

‘It’s sweet how my brother treasures him.’

John’s heart scuppered a bit. Was that sentiment? From his Holmes? 

‘That’s down to you, you know,’ John offered, as he undid his pet’s belt and began tugging his trousers down. 

‘How is it down to me?’

‘You made Mycroft see what he could lose and you are right. I think he treasures Greg as much as I treasure you.’

John kissed the smile that appeared on the detective’s face. ‘I doubt that, Sir,’ he moaned as the doctor reached down into his pants and cupped his balls, squeezing softly.

The doctor went about unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt next, moaning about ‘too many layers’. He quickly revealed pale, quivering skin and threw the whole lot over a chair in the corner, then he lifted his arms straight above his head and pushed them between the wooden bars of the headboard. A karabiner click later and Sherlock was struggling to pull free without success.

‘Shh, my little pet. Hush. I said you’re going to enjoy this.’

After he’d discarded his trousers and pants, John licked a stripe up the detective’s cock, pulling a whimper from the younger man.

He proceeded to trail his fingers down his legs, pausing at his feet. Sherlock wasn’t surprised to feel cuffs around them, pulled snug. He let out a deep, shaky breath.

‘Just drop, Pet. It’s alright.’

He nodded once, jerkily. 

‘Shall we try something a bit heavier?’

‘Yes, Sir.’ The sub didn’t care what it was, but he needed this even after the success the day had been. It definitely hadn’t been what either of them were expecting. His mother had been as soft and loving as she always had been, but his father had been completely contradictory to what he had told his Dom. He briefly wondered if it had something to do with his father being followed by Mycroft and Greg hours ago, when they’d first arrived.

Sherlock found pressure at his lips and realised it was his favourite ball gag. He hummed happily and willingly allowed the Dom to press it between his teeth. He even lifted his head up for a moment so that John could buckle it up. He kissed the top of his head and murmured encouragements in his ear. It didn’t take the detective long to get hard at all.

When blindfolded and gagged, Sherlock’s other senses worked on overdrive. His ears strained and he heard the tell-tale signs of rope being pulled from the suitcase and then his feet were tied to individual bedposts.

He next heard the squelch of lube, he expected his Dom’s finger to penetrate his hole. Instead, it wrapped around his length and ran up, once, twice, three times before the hand was gone. Sherlock’s pitiful moan broke around the gag and John chuckled. 

‘There’s no need for the impatience, my gorgeous boy. You’ll get what’s coming to you, I promise.’

And then suddenly he was gone. He felt the mattress dip and then level out again, but heard nothing. ‘ohhn.’

He realised he wasn’t left alone when he heard the doctor laugh, of course he hadn’t been left alone. 

‘Despite your pretty attempts to talk I think it’s about time to give you your just desserts.’ With that, the Dom knelt on the bed so he was over his sub’s waist and slowly, ever so slowly, he began to lower himself down onto his cock.

More muffled groans came from above and he ran his hands up the detective’s pale skin. When he was fully seated, he squeezed his knees on either side of Sherlock and reached down behind. Another squelch of lube and this time it entered his hole. As soon as his finger entered, Sherlock bucked. 

‘Getting impatient again, Pet.’

‘Mmmhmmhm.’

At the same time as his second finger pushed in, he rose up on his knees and then slid back down again.

‘Come when you want, Pet,’ John gave his permission, but knew the detective wouldn’t reach his orgasm until there was pressure on his prostate.

He rose and fell, rose and fell. Only after he had clenched his arse around him a few times did he reach further into his prostate.

Sherlock came on the first brush of the sensitive bundle of nerves, much like he had expected him to.

‘Good boy,’ he purred in his ear as he pulled off and rested his head on the younger man’s chest. 

He lay there a while until Sherlock’s breathing levelled out, well, as much as it did when he was deep in subspace. Then he shuffled up his body, reached behind his head and unbuckled the gag. Once he pulled it free, he gave his pet the chance to work his jaw slightly before he pushed in. Sherlock choked for a moment before he managed to get his bearings. When he realised it was his Dom’s cock, he hummed happily, no doubt in that area of his mind where nothing mattered except John. It was just a bonus that he had shoved his cock down his throat.

‘Close your eyes for me, baby boy,’ John whispered as he slid the blindfold up and chucked it on the floor beside his case. 

The doctor’s breathing increased as Sherlock hollowed his cheeks, his tongue curling around his length. He sucked like he was 4 years old with a lolly.

He came with a grunt and Sherlock swallowed everything. As he pulled out, he saw Sherlock’s smile. He quickly set about releasing him, but left the cuffs on but not tied to anything. He knew his pet liked the comfort, specifically in subspace.

‘Stay there. I’ll go and fetch you a drink.’ He smiled warmly at Sherlock who just inclined his head slightly.

When John returned after cleaning himself up a bit and with a glass of water, it was to find Sherlock already fast asleep, his arms wrapped around a pillow. The doctor yawned, placed the glass on the side and unravelled the detective’s arms and replaced the pillow with himself, content just to sleep. 

The following morning, breakfast went as smoothly as any of the occupants could have expected, but as Sherlock was heading towards the door with his and John’s case, his father stopped him. ‘Greg, would you mind?’ He held the case up and the DI nodded. 

‘Sure.’ He took it from him and disappeared out the large front door and down the steps.

‘Father?’ the detective asked quietly.

‘Come in here, Son.’

Sherlock stumbled slightly. It was the first time he’d ever been called that by his father. He’d heard it be used in reference to Mycroft, but never himself. He smiled at the older man as he followed him into his study.

‘Is everything okay?’

‘Everything’s fine, Sherlock. I just wanted to congratulate you.’

‘Congratulate me, Sir?’ He may have been behaving rather out of character, but he wasn’t about to risk angering him through a lack of respect.

‘On finding a Dom that is suitable.’

‘He found me, really,’ Sherlock smiled fondly. ‘He’s put up with a lot. I just want to make him happy.’

‘And that’s what makes the pair of you so perfect together. You love him and it is clear to anyone that he adores you.’

‘He looks after me. If it wasn’t for him, I would have ended up in trouble even Mycroft couldn’t have got me out of.’

‘Your brother explained about everything yesterday, how things had changed, how you’d grown up. I just needed to see for myself.’

He suddenly, if rather hesitantly, raised his hand up and cupped the back of his neck and before Sherlock really knew what was happening, the older man was pulling him forward into a hug. The sub couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged by his father. It had to have been when he was a child. He found himself swallowing around a lump of emotion in his throat. Nothing was said until they separated again.

‘I’m sorry, Sherlock. I underestimated you. You and your Dom.’

The detective allowed himself an appreciative smile. The first time he had smiled around his father in years. Maybe Mycroft really had sorted everything out.

‘It’s okay, Father. I understand I may have been what John would call a “loose cannon”, but he’s changed that. He’s fixed me.’

Mr. Holmes smiled back. ‘You were never broken, Son.’

As the car pulled away from the Holmes household and Sherlock turned back from watching his parents, he found all three, Dom/brother/friend, watching him.

He had no idea that what he was about to say was what they all happened to be thinking. 

‘You know, maybe we really could be together forever.’


End file.
